Something In The Air
by Izzie McCool
Summary: It all started in detention. By that time, none of them was aware of what had started, or even that it in fact had started, but nonetheless, it started that day in detention. This is the story of something that started, and then kept going and growing. There was no curtain highlight, just a series of events, making them bump into eachother, again and again. High School AU
1. From The Start

**Something in the air**

**Fandoms: The Avengers / Marvel Movie Verse, Mission Impossible: Ghost Protocol, NCIS; Los Angeles, Robin Hood: Prince of thieves, Robin Hood (BBC), Bourne Legacy**

**From the Start**

It all started in detention. By that time, none of them was aware of what had started, or even that it in fact had started, but nonetheless, it started that day in detention.

It was a strange group of people who filtered in through the door, when vise Principal Phil Coulson open the door, and started taking names.

First off you had Clint Barton, and his brother William Brandt. They weren't really brothers, but they looked like it, and they both lived with the Mr. and Mrs. Watson, who was the foster parents of a total of four boys in addition to their own son. Now, Clint was one the youngest together with Kenneth Gibson and Will. James was two years older, as was John, their real son. Clint was a known face to every teacher, partly because he had a tendency to get detention at least once a week, and partly because he was part of group of student that called them self "the Avengers" after they, in their freshman year, had scared all the bullies from even thinking about touching Kenneth, who could be somewhat slow and naïve, but one of the most loyal friend you could ever have. Given that the group consisted of both Tony Stark, too smart for his own good, Natasha Romanoff, grown up in a studio for martial arts, Steve Rogers, Captain on the football team, Thor, also on the football team, and Bruce Banner, who could create an explosion even Einstein would be proud off, it really wasn't hard to make out how they managed to keep the bullies away, and create trouble enough for all the teachers to know their faces.

Will on the other hand wasn't one to create much trouble, even though he preferred to hang out with Ethan hunt and his crowd, who couldn't be said to always play it safe. But, as Phil collected his not, he hid his smile, seeing as the detention was because of a book Will had refused to give back to the library, seeing as nobody was waiting on it, and he wasn't finish reading it yet. Miss Hill was a strict librarian and one who followed the rules, no matter what.

Next in was Kew Warden, kind of an outsider, adopted son of G. Callen, best friend with Rocket and Tia. He also had a close relationship with a Marty Deeks and Kensi Blye, both of which was off to college. Again, it was a complicated family history which involved a father no one knew anything about, a sister / best friend who had died just last year while they both were in child protective service, and a somewhat bewildering friendship with the school's history teacher, Miss Hetty Lang. His best friend, Rocket, was part owner of a flower shop a few blocks over. Tia had graduated last year and was now one a soccer scholarship on the university in town, and Deeks and Kensi both studied law and injustice a few towns over, but could often be seen with Kew in the weekends. Kew himself was studying literature, with history in the side, and even though it was just his second year, and he didn't really have to worry about money, universities was already looking at him, to give him full support. Which was why Phil was surprised to see him in detention. But he guessed even the best had a bad day, god know he had it, and just wrote down his name and reason for being there. (Claimed the dog had eaten his homework, even though they had no dog. Phil suspected he might have done them, but didn't bring them with him for some reason.)

Nate was soon to follow, with Will Scarlett right behind him. You couldn't get one without the other. Will lived with his uncle, Robin Hood, and was almost as bad as Stark and Barton when talking about pranks. Nate usually was on for the ride, but didn't seem to mind that much. He was living with Max, who originally was from a rich family in England, and Max's best friend, Allan A Dale. Max was dating Robin's daughter, Marian, or so the rumors said, while Allan was trying to befriend the new girl on the school, Much. Nate was of the quiet kind, usually kept his mouth shut it he could manage, and seemed to speak more through his eyes than his mouth, while Allan was the opposite. Both Scarlett and Nate were written up for being late, again, but neither one of them seemed to mind much, again.

Last in was Steffen, who was the youngest of them. Phil tried to keep up with which students hang out with whom, but when it came to Steffen, all he really knew was that Steve Rogers had tried for months to get him into their gang, but Steffen seemed to prefer a girl named Kim, even though it clearly was nothing romantic between them. Kim, he knew, was fighting cancer, and was constantly in and out of hospital. The records said that her mom was stewardess and her father, living in another part of the state. The records also said that Steffen was living on Hammer property, but whether that was because they was doing him a favor, not likely, or because he had a closer relationship with one of them, Phil didn't know. What he knew though, was that Steffen was quite much like Nate, in the fact that he didn't talk much, even though he kept to himself more that Nate, and didn't seem to have the same confidence that Nate possessed.

When all the boys were finally in the room, and seated, he closed the door, and held walked over the desk in from of the room. He picked up a plastic bucket, and started making his round collecting cellphones, since none of them would have any use for them anyway for the next hour or so. There was no fuss about this, at least not from Clint or Will, who both gave up theirs easily, too familiar with the action to care that much, they just kept talking about an upcoming tournament. What the tournament was about, Phil didn't catch.

He skipped over Nate, knowing he didn't have a cellphone of his own, at least not yet, while Will Scarlett and Kew both gave up their own, old, second (third?) hand phones to him when he passed by. He came to Steffen and held out the bucket, actually not knowing if he had a phone or not. When the boy just shook his head, and mumbled something that sounded like "sorry, Sir, don't have one" Phil moved quickly to the front again, and clapped two times to get theirs attention.

The room went silence, and they all turned to look at him. They might be in detention, but Phil had a reputation to be strict and not give in to bullshit, which, one way or another seemed to get him at least some respect from the main population of the students.

Detention usually was a time when student were given time to work on school stuff (with the exception of Start and Banner) or given duties to help out some of the genitors. Today though, was no such day. It was a lovely autumn day, the last warmth of the summer still hanging on, and the sun was shining. It was almost a cliché to say so, but the weather was too good to be spent in a classroom. Instead, Phil and Fury had talked with some of the workers that was painting one of the new buildings, and repainting some of the old, giving the student in detention the opportunity to be outside, while still doing something reasonable.

And that was how it all started. Nothing big in itself, nothing that would save thousands of life, at least not yet, and nothing too much out of the ordinary.

** Shift in story **

Kew didn't mind spending some time outside. He appreciated the time in the sun, in a way he hadn't known was possible just about a year ago. The brush in his hand, full of green (ugh) painting was brushed up and down the wall, and no one was bothering him. Not even Deeks, and he still wonder how he managed to get away from detention, and Kew not. He didn't allow himself to think it was unfair. There were a lot of things in one's life that was unfair, lots of people who had much more on their shoulders that he did at the moment, and didn't complain.

Just about a year ago, he had been one of them. Silent, talking to absolutely no one, keeping to himself, never spending time outside the four walls of his foster home. He had used to think of it as a prison, with the exception that prisoners at least got three meals a day. It wasn't fair, he knew that. Knew that there were worse home to end up in. He had been on the brink of giving up, when it all had changed.

And now he had Deeks and Kensi to one extent. He had Rocket and Tia, even though he had had the last to last year as well, things were better. He had a home, a real home, with everything that was meant to mean to a kid, and life was looking up. It could have been worse. It was his life mantra. It could have been worse, and this time, he actually knew that it could have been.

It was hard to keep telling yourself that when the only worse it could be was if you were dead. And then, when that started sounding like a solution, rather than something scary, it really spoke of how much worse he had had it.

So, yeah, Kew was content with where he was. It was high school so it was supposed to suck sometimes, but all in all; it could have been worse.

He brushed the brush against the walls a couple of more times before putting it in the bucket again to get some more paint. That's when it happened.

It shouldn't be something he worried about anymore, it really shouldn't. But he had lived, grown up really in his last foster home, and bad habits die hard. A few drops of the paint landed on his jeans instead of on the wall, and it was like the world stopped.

He had ruined the jeans, there were stains on them, and he had ruined them. Patch work was okay, as was normal dirt that could be brushed off before he got home, but not paint. Paint wouldn't go away, and Mike was gonna be furious when he found out. The stain couldn't simply be washed away, this was not that kind of painting, and then Mike would find out.

He caught in the corner of his eye that the person standing next to him had stopped moving and was staring at. He couldn't concentrate on that now, 'cause Mike was going to kill him for sure this time, like had threatened to do so many times before, but this time, it was gonna happen for sure. Maybe by the bed, maybe the basement? He couldn't run off, had nowhere to go, and Mike was gonna kill him, just like he had done to Ha-

"Y-y-you o-okay?" The person next to him, Steven, Steffen, something like that, laid a gentle hand on Kew's shoulder, and suddenly Kew was back at the present time. A time where Mike Finn couldn't hurt him, couldn't do anything to him anymore, and he could go home to G and they could talk about it. With words.

"Yeah," he whispered as last, not even trying to shake off the hand on his shoulder ( his therapist said he lacked human contact when he was little. He could zip it) before he took a lung full of fresh autumn air, and turned his head just slightly to give the boy beside him a reassuring smile. A smile that was well practiced.

The boy, Steffen he remembered now, smiled back at him, before going back to his own piece of wall, humming lightly in a tune Kew didn't quite catch. (His therapist also said he needed to make new friends, and he wasn't sure he could argue.)


	2. Every Time You Turn Around

**Every time you turn around**

When they were finished, Coulson gave back their phones, and then they started wondering off, without speaking to each other, or any form for contact.

Kew didn't have a car, he hadn't had time to think about getting a driver license, and he lived in walking distance to the school. G had had the house, before Kew entered his life, and it just happened to be a coincident that paid out for the best. Sam, one of G's friends and colleagues used to joke, and say that the house was a present from their boss, because she obviously knew better than G himself what he needed. Kew had no idea if that was true or just a running joke, and he never asked, didn't care really. He was more or less happy with it the way it was. He was wishing for a bicycle to his birthday to get some feeling of mobilization, even though he knew that G didn't mind driving him if he needed to go anywhere. Actually, it seem like G might prefer it if he could drive Kew, and then keep an eye on him after that. Kew had never caught him doing it, but he had a feeling it might be happening anyway.

Not that he minded much, it was nice to have someone who cared about you, and was willing to sacrifice some hours of their day just watching out for him, even though he didn't need it, and wasn't that much away from home except from school anyway. He spent some time with Rocket down in the flower shop, and sometimes Tia came in and they would talk and mess around. But it was always within the walls of the flower shop, and none of them minded that.

He had walked about a block from the school when he heard someone come up behind him. A year ago it would have caused him to start running, but he tried hard to change some of the things he had taught himself. Instead, he now stopped and turned around, facing whoever it was that was walking behind him.

It was not who he had expected it to be. Nate kept walking until he was side with side to Kew and then stopped, looking right back at him. Kew knew who Nate was, most of the people in school knew who Nate was, if just for the fact that he hung out with Will Scarlett of all people, the nephew to the Chief of Police in town, who nevertheless seemed to get into trouble all the time. The rumors surrounding Will Scarlett and why he lived with his uncle were many, and few of them nice. Kew didn't doubt that none of them was true, but still. It made Nate a known name around the block too.

"Hey," Nate said, holding out his hand as it they were meeting for the first time (which they technically were). "You're Kew, right?"

Kew shook his hand, and nodded, not sure if he should be flattered or not by the fact that Nate knew who he was.

"So, is that short for Kevin or Kevan or something?" It was not a rude question, just spoken with curiosity and friendliness.

"No, it's just Kew," he answered at last, not totally sure where this was going, but reminding himself that he needed to get home and talk to G about his jeans.

"Oh, cool. My name is Nate, and that is short for four names, because my mother didn't think one would be enough." Nate caught up to him again, and when Kew didn't stop walking, or answer him ( because really, what did you say to that), Nate didn't seem to mind and just kept walking beside him, like he didn't have a care in the world, and kept talking. "You live by that store a couple of blocks over, right? I live just a few blocks farther down, and I figured I was going to enjoy the last of the summer."

Now, you may think that Nate was saying this because he was one of those guys who couldn't shut up, but Kew knew for a fact that that wasn't the case. When he saw Nate around school, not that he looked or anything, it was just that when you don't have anyone to hang out with, you often found yourself looking at the rest of the students instead. And whenever Kew saw Nate hang out with Scarlett, it was always Scarlett who seemed to have problems shutting up. Even in the few classes they had together, Scarlett was always the one whispering and talking, while the teacher was trying to teach them stuff. So the talking was not something that was in Nate's nature so to speak, it just seemed like he felt he had to justify himself, and maybe seem less threatening? Kew had no idea what was going on.

When they were within sight of G's house and Kew was about to take a short cut to the back door, Nate took a step before him and turned to face him. His eyes, which were green, seemed to be concerned about something, and Nate hesitated slightly before he spoke again.

"I saw what happened in detention today. With the painting and you pants? I know you don't have that many friends at school, and I knew what that's like. And if you want to hang out or just talk, I want you to know that I would be willing to listen. My dad was a bastard." Then Nate handed him a not with a phone number on, smiled at him, and continued walking.

Kew had no idea what had just happened. Not only did it seem like Nate cared about him, in a friendly way, but it also seemed like Steffen did too, sort of, and Kew couldn't honestly tell the last time he managed to make a new friend. It had to be Deeks and Kensi, even though he wasn't completely sure they counted since G and Sam had introduced them to him. With one last glance down the street where Nate just had rounded the corner, Kew jumped over the fence to the back garden and walking the kitchen door.

G was waiting for him when he closed the door, and Kew managed to not freak out by that. G wasn't usually home when Kew came home from school. His job at FBI, or something like that (Kew wasn't supposed to know), usually kept him at the office until at least five o'clock. But not today apparently.

"You want to talk about it?" G said, not sounding angry, more disappointing. He stood by the stove, stirring in a pot. And beside him was Kew's homework for today. They had talked about this before, even his therapist had talked to him about it, or at least tried, Kew had to admit the man was good at his job, and just like the rest of the times, it had led to nowhere. Kew wasn't smart, far from it, thinking about all the days he had missed because of different reasons, but he always did his best to do his homework. And he usually managed to do it in time too; the problem was getting the papers into his backpack when they were done. He wasn't lazy or forgot about them, he just couldn't get himself to turn them in all the time.

Mike had always said that Kew was stupid, and even though Kew never had believed him, Mike didn't like it when he was wrong. A good grade meant that Mike was wrong, and that had never led to anything similar to pleasant for Kew. This was just another bad habit he had tried to turn, but hadn't managed just yet. It was a miracle he had passed last year, and he was doing better this year, really. It helped that G never schooled him for it; never got angry or upset, just asked if he wanted to talk about it, and then, when Kew promised bring tomorrows homework with him, they let it go. Just like today.

"I'll bring them tomorrow."

G nodded and said what he always said. "Most of these one are right, and we could talk about those who aren't during dinner if you want." It wasn't said to mock or to be cruel, it was encouragement and kindness.

"Yeah, I'd like that."

G nodded and looked over at him, a smile in his eyes. It was still strange to have ended up like this, with G, but he got used to it, more and more.

"By the way, I got paint on my jeans today, and I'm not sure is it can be washed off," Kew said, while putting his backpack in the corner and setting the table.

"How did you manage that?"

"We got to help paint one of the old school buildings in detention." And I was clumsy. He just barely stopped himself from adding the last part. There was no need for excuses longer.

"That's cool. Got to spend some time in the sun then? Work on you tan?" G teased, and put the food in the table.

"Yeah, really funny, G."

"No, I'm serious. It would probably help if we just cut off those jeans and made into shorts, though. That would solve the stain problem too." G was smiling faintly, the closest he got to laughter, and was waiting for Kew to sit down beside him.

"Oh God, No. The 90s don't want people to mess with their style."

"Who said anything about the 90s? I'm talking the 80s style. It would look good on you." G was actually grinning at him now, and Kew groaned, while he sat down, yesterday's homework in hand, and started eating. He couldn't stop smiling though.

**** Shift in Story ****

"And no one was waiting on it, but Miss Hill still wanted me to hand it in!" Will said from the backseat, sitting next to Clint, while John and James were seated in the front seat. John had picked them up after detention, since both of their parents still were at work, and James had tagged along just to interrogate them about why they had been in detention. Again. Will had carefully explained his problem with the school library system, and with Miss Hill, in great detail.

"You always were too stubborn for your own good, Will," James said, looking over at him, before shaking his head. There was no weight in his word, they all knew each other pretty well, and didn't pick on each other. Almost all of them had been picked on enough for a lifetime already in their life, before they moved in with the Watson's.

"Yeah, well, I was right. I checked in the school roles about it, and she can't force me to turn it in if no one is waiting for it. I should be given the opportunity to extend the period without any trouble. I bet she is still angry for the thing that happened last year." The last was said as a mumble to the window.

"The thing?!" Clint said, smiling at him. "The thing where you, as the first one in history, ever, told her she had gotten some of the spellings wrong in the spelling contest, and she turned to a color closer to purple than should be healthy?" Clint laughed at Will, while John smiled from the driver seat.

"Laugh while you can, Clint. You haven't told James what you got detention for yet," Will shoot back. Clint shouldn't laugh at him, he knew Will had had problems with his parents, and previous foster homes. They thought he was too thoroughly, too strict and couldn't handle it. The Watson's on the other hand, didn't say so much about it and especially not after Will had been diagnosed with a mild form of OCD. Clint tried to be cool about it, and most of the time, he didn't care that much. He let Will do his thing, and did his own, that was just how they worked. Will liked to hang out with Ethan Hunt, who was way too snobby for Clint's own taste (he had enough with Tony Stark, thank you very much), even though Benji and Jane was alright.

"Yeah, Clint, why was you in attention?" James ask, always the one to sound more like their parents, real one or foster, with his tone set in stone and almost judging, something Clint was way too know with to find reassuring or friendly at all. He choose to not let himself be angry by that though, it was just the way James was, the way he was brought up to be, and not something major that made them hate each other all the time.

And, besides, he knew James couldn't actually complain about this! "I did what you have done about a trillion times and never got caught. Of course, once I figured I better try it too, there is Principal Fury standing before me, busting me even before I could do something."

"You tried to go to the roof?!" James said, and turned around in his seat to look at him. Clint nodded and was about to reply when John turned around to where they lived. From there they all got out and in, before deciding on who should do what, and then starting to make dinner.

Clint foster parents, Richard and Ann, both worked at the local hospital. Ann was a doctor, while Richard was a nurse, which Clint had thought was really weird in the beginning, but now understood was where they belonged. Richard was a really good nurse, and Ann was an amazing doctor. The downside was that they often worked late, and that left the five boys, Kenneth had taken the buss home and was doing his homework when they came home, to finish dinner 'til one of them came home. That was part of a deal they had; if the boys made the food, Ann and Richard had promised that one of them would be home for dinner around six every day. And so far, none of the boys minded that arrangement at all. They usually, unless they got detention, had enough time to finish their homework before they had to start making dinner, and then they could do whatever they wanted the rest of the night.

Today, they were making some kind of pasta thing with sausages and a sauce, and bread and salad. John stood for all the important work, while Clint, who once had manage to ruin a pan while boiling rice, was forbidden to do anything important, and instead ended up taking out the garbage when they were done, and the table set.

It was starting to get dark, and cold in the air already, a sure sign the winter was on its way, and Clint hurried down to the back port to be done already.

He wouldn't have noticed him if he hadn't said anything.

"Really, is this where you live?"

Clint stopped, almost fell over by the surprise and shock, as Barney Barton stepped out from the shadows of a tree nearby, and walked to stand in front of him on the other side of the gate. Barney looked awful. Even in the little light that fell on his face, Clint could see the black eye, the way his skin seemed to be some kind of yellow, and the way his face seem to hang. He had lost weight since last time Clint had seen him, almost four years ago, while they both still were in the circus.

"What do you want?" Clint thought about just dumping the bag and go inside, ignoring his brother, which would be the best for him, but somehow he just couldn't. Somewhere inside him was still that little kid who thought that if he just could prove to Barney that he was worth something, Barney would start liking him and take care of him the way he always was supposed to do. (Someone had once told him he was stupidly loyal, and if Clint could remember who, he would find them and give them a medal for figuring him out so easily. Or hit them, he hadn't decided yet.)

But even if he still felt loyal to Barney on a level he shouldn't, that didn't mean he had to take any crap his brother served him. Barney looked at him for a moment, before he seemed to understand that, and lay his hands on the port, getting as close to him as he could without getting on private property. It seemed he had learned his laws.

"I was in the neighborhood and figured I could say hi. I'm staying in town for a while, and wondered it maybe you we could hang out sometime, get to know each other again."

Bullshit. Clint didn't say it, but he thought it very loud, so loud that it seemed like Barney got the point. "Just think about it," was the last thing he said before he turned around, and Clint could hear a car pulling up in the driveway. He stood perfectly still for another second before he swore under his breath, dumped the bag in the garbage can, and walked in, thinking about what the hell barney could, no, would screw up for him this time.


	3. Learning To Fall

**Hello! **

This is the beginning of the part that deals with Rape, so if you don't want to read about it, but still want to continue reading the story when this part is over (in my head; eveything up until now has just been in intruduction, and the first part of the story deals with Rape, and there are several parst later that has nothing to do directly with this part, but some on the friendships / replationships are started in this part) just send me a note and I can give you a bruife overview over what happens in this part, and I will also say in the notes at the beginning when the first part is over.

**Be safe!**

Of, and by the way, if anyone is interested in betaing this or just helping me along I would not say no :)

**Learning To Fall**

It was just that weekend that the first really big thing happened. Tony Stark turned 16, but celebrated like he turned 21, with inviting the whole school, more or less, and since his parents were out of town again, he also had managed to find some alcohol to serve.

The Stark House was a few miles from town, surrounded by forest and nature. Will Scarlett didn't mind that, he had grown up being a lot outside in the forest, and knew how to not get lost. Not that there was any need for anyone to step outside the house, or the garden behind the house. The air was starting to get cold, but Tony had a bathtub in the back yard, and so it was food and drinks both outside and inside. Will sipped on his own drink, looking around, and seeing that Tony Start himself was on his third drink, and was starting to get a bit drunk. Luckily, he had many of his friends over, and they (as in Natasha, who was freaking scary) ordered him to drink water and soda for the rest of the night. Will himself knew he couldn't come home and smell of alcohol or smoke. Robin Hood was a police officer after all, and even when he laid down his badge, he took his responsibility for Will way too serious.

Ethan Hunt and his crowd were there as well, along with many other people Will had never talked to before. He caught himself wishing that Nate could have made it too, but he knew Nate and Max was being visited by someone important, seeing as Max soon would have to start taking over the company his parents had built, and Nate was more or less promised a position in on the top floor as well. That was party why Nate was taking both math/economy and politics this year. Will himself was taking many of the same subjects, but mainly because he didn't want to end up in class where he didn't know anyone, and it was a relief sometimes, to have Nate so that he could ask him about the stuff they were learning.

The party was pretty boring for Will since he didn't know anyone, but he nevertheless kept he eyes open, seeing as much as possible. Sometime during the evening he caught sight of one of Tony's friends, Clint, talking with a low voice to someone, just outside the backdoor. Will couldn't see who he was talking to, but it seem to be, at least from Clint's side, an argument, and if it was one think Will didn't need, it was trouble, so he walked silently away without interfering.

He also caught sight of Steve Rogers giving Tony a talk to about alcohols, since some his guest weren't even 16 yet, let along 21, but Tony was too drunk to care much, and just laughed at Steve, before trying to kiss him. And that was another thing Will didn't need to know.

Sometime during the night, there stopped coming more people, and instead people started to go home. Will tried to see if he could catch a ride, but none of those he knew or trusted had any free seats, and he was above begging some stranger to drive him home. So, instead he ended up walking out the front door, and headed home, walking.

It wasn't more than a 30 minute walk, but it still rubbed Will the wrong way going it alone. He wasn't afraid of the dark or anything like that, it was just that, well, Will wasn't sure he could stand up for himself. He would sure as hell try, he wasn't one to back down, but there always was this rumor about ole men walking in the forest, looking for young boys to take home. He knew they probably just was fiction, and he totally did not swing that way, but he still breathed with relief when he noticed the kid Nate had talked to after detention earlier that week, heading in the same direction as him.

"Hey, you headed into town?" he called over, jogging to catch up with the guy, who had stopped and nodded at him. "Care for some company?" And since the guy just shrugged, Will took as a Yes, rather than a No, and they walked in silence along the now deserted rode, the lights and sounds from Stark Villa further away, and more distance with every step they took.

Will figured out after about two minutes that Kew, he thought that was his name, really wasn't a talker. He really hoped he didn't have a problem with listening though, because Will didn't fancy silence that much. It made his brain speak too loud to him, wandering in ways it shouldn't go, and in never ended in any happy memories or a bright idea. It ended in self-loathing and regret, and so, he did what he could to not get there. He talked.

He talked and talked as they walked, shutting up sometimes to hear if Kew wanted to say something, but when he didn't he just kept on talking. He talked about sport (it was a boy thing, Robin had said, and dragged him to a game once. After that one time, he always asked his colleagues first) and he talked about popular music, stuff he listen to on the radio, the latest gossip from around, and was about to start talking about Max and him dating someone Will lived in the same house as, when Kew stopped.

Will stopped suddenly too, when Kew lay a hand on his chest, and hushed on him. It took a couple of second before he heard what Kew must have heard even over him talking. There was someone near them that was breathing ragged, and groaned. Will quickly fixed out his cellphone, using the light from the screen to try and look around. They were about halfway to town, just walking along a straight stretch of road, with tight forest on both side of the road.

"Hello?" he called out, starting to run forward, trying to locate the where the sound was coming from. Kew came running behind him with his own phone out, calling someone, Will was hoping for help. He had no idea what they would find, or if it even would be a person, maybe it just was an animal that had been run over and still was alive. But whatever it was, he didn't want to walk the rest of the way home anymore.

He turned to his right when the sound seemed to come from that direction, and shone what little light his phone gave down in the ditch. What he saw made swear to himself never to walk alone in the dark again.

**** Shift in Scene ****

"Seriously? You parents let you celebrate you birthday at your place, without them and with a string of people you don't know, but they won't let you sleep there alone?" Brandt asked, and looked surprised at Tony, who just nodded. He was coming down from his alcohol, and had a water bottle in his hands.

They were all headed to Clint and Brandt's house to have a sleep over there. John had been so kind as to pick them up at Tony's since Ethan didn't have room for all of them. Ethan, who's family situation was too much like Tony's own, that none of them ever talked about it. Ethan had Jane, Benji, Natasha and Steve in his car, mostly since they were the folks that Tony was most likely to talk back to and that would definitively end ugly. That was why Clint and Will had called John and begged him to pick them up, even though it was almost 1 AM and they strictly speaking should be in bed. Bruce was reading a book, something science related, and Clint was sitting in the front seat, looking at them all in the review mirror.

"Don't ask me how they work," Tony mumbled, while taking a sip from the bottle, and massaging his forehead, as if he had a head ache. Which he probably did, but Clint couldn't bring himself to care so much about that, it was too funny talking back to the philanthropist.

"They are not machines, you know," Clint said, smirking, "and you are no iron man."

"For someone who calls themselves Hawkeye, you're walking on a line," Tony shot back, finishing the bottle of water, and trying to lean forward to throw the bottle at Clint, but Brandt leaned forward at the same time, and caught the bottle before it even left Tony's hand.

"Break it off," John said, eyes still on the road, but with a faint smile, "we don't want anyone, Clint, to be injured before the big tournament tomorrow."

"Like that would stop him," Tony mumbled, leaning against the window again. He just managed to breathe out, before John was tramping on the break, making them all joint forward in their seats, and very thankful they all were wearing seatbelts.

"Wha -" Clint started, but John was already halfway out the door, and Tony and Brandt right behind him. Clint had no idea what was going on, but when John started shouting, he and Bruce also left the car, and started jogging over to where John and Brandt was helping two other persons drag something out of the ditch. Or rather someone.

Clint froze, his brain trying to take in all around him, and his mind was unable to keep up. There was Scarlett and Kevin? Kevan? Something like that, looking sweaty and breathing hard, while getting help from John and Brandt dragging a person up from the ditch, who was only about a meter deep, but it had been raining for last couple of days, the day in detention the last sunny day, and it was about 20-30 cm with water in it. Both Scarlett and Kew, that was it, was wet as well as the person who now was lying on the road, looking almost white from the front light of Ethan's car who pulled up behind them.

"I've called G, he will be here in a couple of minutes to pick us up, and get him to a hospital," Kew said, while moving out of the way so that John could check for a pulse, but the guy was clearly breathing, and started taking off his jacket, draping it over the guy.

"Hey! What happened?" Ethan Hunt came running toward them, with the rest right behind. Ethan took one look at the guy, Clint still couldn't recognise him, and his eyes seemed to zoom in on the same Clint now was starting to notice. The way his jeans were dirty and not quite right on, the button undone and the zipper only halfway up. The way his shirt under John's jacket was open, and there were obvious marks on his chest.

The next thing they knew, Ethan had turned towards Scarlett, and hit him.


	4. Dirty Little Secret

**Chapter 4 - Dirty Little Secret**

Kew had no idea what to do. He didn't like violence, had had enough for a lifetime, and when Ethan started hitting Will Scarlett in the face, he could just stand and watch, as it seem the rest of the couldn't get themself to do anything either. Kew wasn't strong enough or big enough to take on Ethan Hunt, member in at least half a dozen sports clubs, by himself.

It took about three seconds before William Brandt was between Ethan and Scarlett, who was now on the ground after Ethan's last punch, holding up his hands to the elder teen. "What the hell, Ethan?!"

"You stay away from him, Scarlett, do you hear me?! You stay away from him! I know what you mother was! I know where you come from!" Ethan started shouting, still staring at Scarlett, but making no effort to get around Brandt and start hitting him again. "I know why your name is Scarlett, I knew your mom was a Scarlett woman, you're probably just following in her footstep, right?"

It suddenly became much clearer what Ethan was pointing at, and they all stilled, waiting for Scarlett's comeback, he always had a comeback. But then Kew looked over at where Scarlett was lying on the ground, and he just seemed small and afraid, and hurt. He looked them over a time, he gaze setting on the person, Steffen, still on the ground, groaning and breathing hard, before he spit blood on the ground in front of Ethan's feet, got up, and started running away from them.

"Steve, take Ethan to the car, and the rest of you, take off any jackets you can spear, we need to keep him worm," John snapped, he had looked over when Ethan punched Scarlett, but now, all his focus seemed to be on the boy before him, and it seemed like he really knew what to do with the situation, so no one said anything, just did as he said, even though Ethan was still casting angry glares the was Scarlett had disappeared.

Kew opened his own jacket and gave it to Tony Stark, who gave it to John.

"You said you've called for help?" It took a couple of seconds before Kew caught that John was talking to him, but when he did he nodded.

"G will be here in about five minutes."

"Okay, that's good. Hey, can you hear me? Hello?" John was trying to get contact with Steffen, slapping him lightly on the cheek, and again it took some time before Kew realized none of them knew his name. Ok, Steve probably knew, Kew had seen him approach Steffen almost every week, but he was in the car with Ethan.

"His name is Steffen," he said, and leaned down.

"Thanks. Hey, Steffen, this is going to be okay, me and some friends are just gonna role you over to you side okay?" When John didn't get a clear answer, he looked at Clint, Bruce and Brandt for help.

The moment there was more than one pair of hands of him, Steffen started reacting, and not in the good way. He jerked, trying to get away from them as they rolled him over, and he throve up the moment they had him on his side. The rest of them seemed at loss what to do, even John, who was the oldest, and that was the only reason Kew stepped forward, when Bruce was about to start rubbing Steffens back.

"Don't touch him!" He hadn't realized he had shouted it, until all eyes snapped to him, waiting and assessing. "Do you need to touch him?"

John, who clearly had taken some course, or had parents who worked in the field, shook his head, and they all sat back a little. Kew took the risk and sat down beside John, by Steffen's head, noting that his face was wet, and not from tears. He had probably been lying face down in the ditch at one point. He started talking, just talking letting his voice fill the silence around them, and little by little it seemed like Steffen became calm again.

He had started shaking now, whether it was from shock or cold, Kew had no idea, and seemed to be trying to tell them something. It sounded like one word, repeated again and again, as if trying to tell them something. He must have sensed that none of them moved or understood him, because he started to try to sit up, but didn't even manage to put any weight on his arm before he fall back to his side.

"M-m-mobeel," it sounded like, but John just shushed him. "It's okay, Steffen, You're safe now, it's all going to be okay."

"I think he wants his cellphone?" Clint said suddenly, and continued when they all just looked at him. "Thor has started teaching me some of the word from where he is from, right? Well, yesterday I asked him for fun, what cellphone was on Norwegian, and what he said sounded a lot like what he if mumbling now." He shrugged. "Does he have a cellphone on him?"

"He said he didn't have one in detention," Brandt pointed out, but both he, Tony and Benji had started looking around. All three of them stopped when they came to the ditch though, looking nothing like they wanted to jump in to search for something that may or may not be there.

Kew got up, and jumped into the ditch, seeing as he already was wet from him and Scarlett trying to drag Steffen out of there in the first place. He started feeling around, glad to have something to do other than sit there and look at Steffen, getting a clearer and clearer picture of what must have happened to him. His hands suddenly came in contact with something hard and smooth. Too smooth to be a rock. He lifted it up, and smiled when he saw that it indeed was a cellphone. Just when he was about to take his other hand out of the cold water as well, it also found something smooth and hard.

He lifted up a second phone, and starred surprised at both of them before Tony suddenly snatched them out of his hands.

"Give me those. Poor babies, who treated you so badly, huh? No worries, dad's going to take care of you, you'll be as good as new, I promise."

Kew was about to say something, when Bruce waved him off. "Ignore him, please," and Kew didn't find it that hard at all.

"Ok, Steffen, we found you phones, no calm down. Everything is going to fine, help is on its way," John said smoothly, putting some more jackets over him and settling down beside him. He stroked his hand over Steffens face, carefully, and started talking to him, just like Kew had done about a minute ago.

After that it only took a couple of minutes before they saw a car come closer and closer, before stopping as close to them as possible.

G got out and ran over to them, taking in the scene before stepping up to Steffen, who was now floating in and out of consciousness, and asked question while carrying him over to his care.

"What happened?"

"We don't know, we found him in the ditch like this," John said, and Kew was suddenly glad that he didn't have to answer. He wasn't sure what had happened, but he had pretty good idea what had happened, and he didn't want to be the one to say it out loud, at least not with all the other people around.

"He threw up just a couple of minutes ago, but he seems to be pretty out of it," Clint contributed, following G, John and Kew while they walked toward G's car.

It was first now that Kew noticed Natasha, Jane and Benji standing off to side, watching it all. Both Natasha and Jane looked angry, upset about it, they clearly understood some of what had happened, while Benji looked like he might be sick himself.

"Ok. I'll take him to a hospital. The rest of you, get home and sleep. Tomorrow I want you to talk to your parents about what happened tonight, and then, on Monday, Kew can let you know how it went, ok?" You could say many things about G Callen, both nice things and not so nice things. But when it came to giving orders and making people follow them, he had some sort of authority over him, which made it hard to disobey. All of them nodded, except Stark, but Kew hadn't really thought that would happen anyway, before G laid Steffen out in the backseat, waved Kew in there as well, and shout the door close.

Steffen still had a couple of jackets thrown over him, but was shaking worse than before. Kew smoothed closer, lifter his head just so that he could rest it in his lap. Steffen was more or less out of it, and didn't seem to notice. Kew throw a quick glance out the window before G drove off, catching the was John ushered them onto the two cars, pulling up his phone at the same time, probably to call his parent and tell them what had happened. Then they were lost in the woods and the dark. Kew tried to keep an eye out of the window, keeping in mind Scarlett who had run off, but at the same time, brushing his hand over Steffens face hair. The boy in his lap didn't protest, didn't do much of anything really, still pretty much out of it.

It wasn't before G slowed down in front of the hospital that Kew noticed how his hands were shaking.


	5. Storm Warning

**Chapter 5 - Storm Warning**

Phil Coulson prided himself with being a good man and doing what needs to be done, no matter how hard it might seem. That was why he stays up until past three some nights to correct the last tests for his class, so that they didn't have to wait, and also why he was careful about what subjects he chooses to teach in. Foreign policy and English was not easy subjects, but there is no need for him to make them any harder.

It was also the reason why Phil was still registered as a possible foster home, even though he never had been called up on it. When he was fresh out of the Rangers, taking the job offer Fury had given him, he had checked off the box without more thought to it. A couple of months later he had a visit and that was it. He hadn't heard more of it.

This was not what was on Phil's mind as he woke around half past 1 AM on a Saturday night, fumbling for his phone in the dark, still half asleep. He's mind was so kind to tell him that he really should change his phone sound, "Manic Monday" was only funny so long, before he finally got a hold of the phone.

"Hello?"

"Hello? Hi, is this Phil Coulson, Vise Principal of Southern High School?" a crispy voice asked him on the other end. New, Colson was a private man, he didn't like when people he didn't know called him, and even less in the middle of the night. But before he could confirm it or hang up the person on the other end continued.

"This is G. Callen. Principal Fury gave me your number, since he was out of town. I'm calling because one of you students had been assaulted, and I have no idea who his parents are, or where he lives. I don't think they plan on keeping him overnight, but I don't want to drop him off for himself just now."

It took Phil about two second to take it all in, then he was out of bed and had started dressing, still with his phone pressed to his ear. "Do you have a name? I can swing by the school and bring with me his papers before I come."

"Um, sure, just hold on a second." There was some mumbling in the background, while Phil put on his shirt and jacket, before heading out the door. "Kew says his name is Steffen? We don't know the last name, but he was in detention with you this Wednesday?"

Phil nodded to himself, before confirming that he knew which student they were talking about, and getting the address to the hospital they were in. He almost sprinted into the school, as much as he ever sprinted, and was walked into the hospital merely 10 minutes after he had hung up on the phone (he thanked the silence roads for that).

G. Callen, which Phil had never talked much to except for the few parents meetings in the beginning of the year, and Kew was sitting in the waiting room. Kew looked like he might be in shock, pale and still on his chair, and Callen was sitting beside him, resting a reassuring hand on the boys shoulder.

Phil cleared his throat before stepping up to them, holding out his hand to Callen, who rose and shook it.

"Thank you for coming," Callen said, while sitting down again, starting to rub Kew's back, as the kid bent forward to put his head between his legs. He looked like he might be sick, but Phil hold back from trying to touch him, his guardian was here, and this wasn't school. He trusted Callen to know what Kew needed.

"No problem," Phil said, and sat down beside Callen, bring up a file to rest on his lap. "I tried calling the number listed to his parents but it brought me nowhere. I'll try calling his building manager on Monday and hear it he knows anything," Phil said, but still handed the file over to Callen when he reached out for it. Phil knew where Callen worked, more or less. He was a federal agent of some sort, high enough up that he had access to a lot of databases that Phil couldn't even try to grasp about. He felt a bang of bad conscience about the fact that this kid had walked the corridors of the high school for over a year, and he had never tried to verify the number he gave them in the first week, or even think about if he had even seen his parents. It all seemed like to should have made him check it out sooner.

"Hansen?" Callen said after a while, looking at Phil, who just shrugged. "Isn't that a Scandinavian name?" Phil had no idea. The only Scandinavian students he knew about were Thor and Loki which both had last named ending on "son".

The file was handed back to him, just as a nurse came and called them in. Callen convinced Kew to sit back and wait for them, and Phil could understand why, Kew still looked like he might throw up at any time. They follow the nurse, a man named Richard to a bed where a doctor is just finishing his papers.

Phil felt like he might throw up himself, when he saw Steffen. The boy was seated on the bed, looking pale and leaning on the doctor, in just his shorts and with a blanket thrown over him. There were starting to form marks around his neck, fingermarks Phil's mind come up with, and there were clearly scratch marks on his chest and belly. What was visible of his thighs and feet were also bruised in marks that could easily look like hand prints, and all Phil wanted to do it get out there and strangle whoever could do this to a kid, who could do this to a human being, but he stayed calm. His eyes saw the word "Flunitrazepam" on the doctor's pad, and he closed his eyes for a second, before opening them again. When he did, there were a couple of scared and confused brown eyes that meets his.

**** Shift in Story ****

The house was silent when he entered, which was either a good thing, or a really bad thing. Will wasn't quite sure until he enters the living room on his way to his own bedroom, and the light suddenly switched on.

This was the beginning on many of his nightmares. The nightmares where Robin finally had had enough of him and have decided he couldn't take care of Will anymore, won't take care of him anymore. It's always different reasons; Will couldn't listen, wasn't doing good enough at school, always stayed out too late, kept keeping secrets from him, and Robin couldn't handle it.

Will wasn't stupid; he knew that family didn't matter as much as people would like to believe. Sometimes people got tired, even of their own family and then there was nothing more for him to here, and he would be sent away, maybe a group home? There was one just a couple of towns over, or maybe he'd do what he had heard Clint did when he was younger; run away and join a circus? There were a lot of possibilities if he just kept his eyes open.

"Dad went to bed early."

Will turned slowly, trying to take in what was happening, cause this was not how it was supposed to go. Marian was sitting on the couch with a book in her hands, dressed in sweatpants and a way too big t-shirt who Will suspected she had stolen from Max. Why Max would have a t-shirt that big on the other hand was another question, 'cause the guy wasn't much bigger than Marian himself. The book in her hands were on of Shakespeare's play, she was in the drama club, and her hair was let lose over her shoulders, falling in big and powerful curls down her back and side. If Will wasn't more or less grown up with thinking about her as his sister, he would have been laying on his knees, begging her to go on a date with him. Well, that and the fact that she was dating one of his friends.

"You want to tell my where you have been?" She was standing beside him now, hands on her hips, still holding her book, and looking at him like she was his mother. And that reminded him …

"Stark celebrated his birthday tonight. I went to see if it was any good, then I walked home. Sue me." He didn't want to talk about it, didn't even want to remember what Hunt had said about his own mother, not unless he could face someone who could answer his questions, which he knew Marian couldn't. He was furious, and he knew he did stupid things when he wasn't thinking clearly. He wanted to go to bed, forget everything about tonight, and never talk about again.

Marian seemed to catch up to some of his feelings, and didn't say anything. She seemed hesitant to do anything, which was Will's chance to get her of his hair and go to bed.

He didn't come far before Marian called after him, as silence as she could to not wake Robin, "If you want someone to talk to, William…" but he didn't wait to hear the rest.

He sometimes wished he could talk to her, tell her everything that was on his mind, the way he thought about the world, and all his plans for when he had to move on, people always moved on, but he knew that was never happening. Marian wasn't anything like him, she had grown up with to parents, her mother had been a kind and wonderful woman who had died in a car accident when they both were eleven, just a couple of months before Will had moved in. Marian had grown up in a house with rules and duties and order. Will had grown up in a room, a room which his mother had chased him out of almost all the time. And when he was allowed back in, it was a smelly, dirty and messy place with garbage on the floor and no hot water. When Marian had learned how to read, he had learned how to become a pickpocket, and when Marian rode her bike up the street alone for the first time, Will had figured out how to pick almost any kind of locks. The transition had finally come, to something better and more normal, but it didn't matter. When Robin had taken him in, Marian had forced him to tell her about his life before them and she had laughed and said that it was gross.


	6. Only Human

**Chapter 6 - Only Human**

He was at a loss of what to do. Phil Coulson, the man who usually had four backup plans on his backup plan, had no idea what to do. There had been no question in his mind, Saturday night when Callen had asked if Steffen could go him with him, in exchange for Callen sorting everything out with the CPS. Phil hadn't even blinked before saying yes.

And now, Sunday evening he had no idea what to do in the morning. There was no way Steffen was going to school in the morning, the boy could barely walk, thanks to anal tearing, and the drugs had been slow to get out of his system, mostly because he had slept almost none stop since Phil had placed him in the guest room. At first, Phil had been afraid Steffen wouldn't even manage to sleep, due to bruising both on his front and back (the doctor had mentioned a badly bruised rib as well) and he also imagined a scenario where Steffen woke up from nightmares, but it seemed the drugs took care of that. Well, the drugs and the pain killers the hospital had sent with him. To be honest; Phil wasn't sure Steffen even knew where he was.

What worried him was the fact that he hadn't managed to get the kid to eat anything, and even the few times he managed to get him to drink something, it usually came back up within the hour. It was also the fact that Steffen hadn't said a word to him yet. In addition to that, Phil had to go to work tomorrow, Fury had offered him a few days off, but Phil wanted to be there when they informed the rest of the students what had happened, and besides, he had no idea how to really help the kid. The courses he had taken before starting his job, never mentioned scenes like this.

Suddenly, he was distracted by his phone. He had changed his tune, but found out that "It Gets Better" did nothing to lift his mood. "Hello?"

"Hey, Phil. Wow, you sound exhausted."

"You could say that again." Phil sighed and sat back in his chair. Peter was an old friend from collage. He was working white collar crimes in the FBI, but had managed to keep in touch with Phil both during Phil's time in the military, and after.

"Is it something I need to worry about?"

"No, it's just… it's been a stressful weekend. One of my students got assaulted and raped, and since we can't reach his parents, he is living with me for the moment." And Phil had used a lot of his own energy trying not to think about what had happened to him, and how things might turn out. He got this clutching feeling in his chest every time the thought about someone doing something like that to someone else, and especially just a kid, and it made his head hurt and the world float around him. He had also realized that if they were to report this case, it should happen before too long time had passed, but he hadn't had the time to call the hospital and ask if they had reported it or not.

"Wow, sound like you got a lot on your plate. How is he doing?"

"Well, I don't really know. He had been sleeping almost all the time, and I can't get him to eat."

It was a long silence on the other end before Peter commented, "And I'm guessing you want to go to work tomorrow but also don't want to leave him alone?"

This was one of the reasons Phil liked Peter. He didn't need everything spelled out for him; he was able to draw his own conclusions, both on good stuff and bad stuff. This was something that Phil wasn't proud to admit, he should be putting Steffen before everything, but he felt utterly useless here, with no clue as to what to do. He had this faint hope that if he could watch while the rest of the students was informed, he might catch something that told him who had done it, or if he needed to give more names the schools therapist.

"Yeah," Phil said, letting out a sigh he hadn't known he was holding.

"Then how about I and Neal come around? Neal has been bugging me all week about paperwork, and he is really good with people."

It spoke of how desperate Phil was feeling that he didn't need more than a couple of second to think about before agreeing. He needed to get out the house, needed to get some advice about how to handle this kind of situation, and he needed to stop they building and talk to the owner, see if he knew how to contact Steffens own family.

"That would be great."

Phil had no idea how much Steffen remembered from last night, it he even remembered anything at all. There had been no alcohol in his blood, only the drugs, but it seemed they had hit him pretty hard. Worst case scenario was Steffen not remembering anything. Or, maybe that was the best? Not remembering meant Phil had to tell him, but it also meant Steffen wouldn't recall it.

After hanging up with Peter, Phil started his laptop, and started researching. Any knowledge he could gather would be better than nothing.

****Shift in Story****

"I don't want to talk about it, Will."

"Oh, really? So you're just gonna accuse Scarlett of .. of … of rape, and then refuse to say why? Wow, you're logic is really off, Ethan."

Will starred at his friend, totally ignoring all the other people around them. They were at a tournament, bow and arrow, and Clint was standing ready to take aim. Brandt didn't seem to notice this at all; he was too focused on starring down his friend, if not best friend, who in turn was busy ignoring Will.

The previous night was still fresh in everybody's mind, and when they all got up this morning, Richard had been sitting by the kitchen table with a cup of tea, while Ann was getting ready to get to work, stroking her husband over the back reassuring, as they all invaded the kitchen. James and John was already up and out, John over at a friend doing some school work, and James on his usual morning run. So when the three teenagers, Tony was the only one who had spent the night and Kenneth was sitting by the table eating breakfast, Richard sighed and looked up at them.

It had been an awful conversation with Richard telling them he had been one of the nurses to attend to the boy, and they telling him they had been among they who found him. It had ended with Richard crying, something that wasn't easy to do, before he had kissed them on the top of their heads and heading to bed to get some sleep before Clint's tournament. Ethan had come over not long after that, asking if they had heard anything, and they had told him what Richard had told them, before heading out to play some ball. None of them had really been up to it, but Clint needed to get it out of his head, and no one had said no.

"You can't just go around accusing people of rape, Ethan!" None of the others had even mentioned the part where Ethan more or less said that Will Scarlett had been the one to do it, but whether it was because they didn't care, unlikely, or they thought Brandt should be the one to take it up with him, hell yeah, they hadn't said. Will would have liked to prove them all wrong and not say a word to Ethan about it, but his mind wouldn't let it rest. They lived in a small town, there weren't many secrets around, and even though Will didn't know Scarlett himself, had only spoken to him when in class, Will just couldn't stand behind an accusation like that.

The worst part, still, was that he knew Ethan wasn't telling him all it was to it. People could talk as much shit about Ethan as they wanted, but he wasn't just a more that common rich kid, who thought everybody was below him. If that was the case, he wouldn't have hung out with Will himself, or helped Kenneth with his homework once a week. Ethan did care about people, did his best to stand up for people even, and that was one of the reasons Will was so baffled about what he had said.

The crowd around them cheered, and Will looked out on the range to see that Clint had taken his first shot. He also caught Richard's eyes, looking over at them, since both Benji, Kenneth, Natasha and Stark was between them, and he looked like he might wanted to hear what they were talking about, since it was clear that they weren't watching Clint.

Next to Clint was another boy from their school, but all Will knew him as was Allan. After seeing him take the shot as well, Will realized he wasn't so bad with a bow, even though it was enough point between him and Clint, for Will to not worry. Allan, he knew, hang out with Scarlett, Nate and another kid named Max, who seemed, from what Will could understand, to not be as good off as the rest of them. It wasn't that Will thought he was poor or something like that, and even if he did, it wouldn't matter, but Will had noticed that Max almost never wore new clothes, and the once he did have was torn and worn. He knew that Max and Nate lived together somewhere, but hadn't really had any interest in finding out anything more about them. Now on the other hand, with Ethan's words in his ears, he figured he would let Ethan of the hook, for new, and instead try and talk with Jane about it, she always seemed to know what was up with Ethan. He could also try to figure out if there was something shady going on between Scarlett, Max and the rest of them. Benji and Stark would like the challenge, and Will himself would like very much to could go back the normal way things were supposed to be. A place where Ethan Hunt didn't make accusations without probably cause, and where Will would be the first he turned to.


	7. Hanging by a Moment

Hey! Ok, so this chapter stills deals with the aftershock of the rape, but there are no description on it at all, and there won't be either, it is just little thoughts about it, but as I said, no description at all.

Next chapter starts to go more on to other things, even thought, Steffen will stil be in the story, and it is something that has had it's effect on him, but it won't be the main focus.

Thanks for all the hits, and please let me know what you think of it, and if you have any ideas about what you want to happen, I would be happy to talk about it. ( I would also really like it if someone would have wanted to beta for me, but I don't have any friends that are into fanfiction, and I feel comfortable showing my work to, so please, if you would like to do it, lett me know. I am sticking to about 2000 words for each chapter, and post them once a week.)

Love

**Chapter 7 - Hanging by a Moment**

He woke with a stir, almost as he was falling. But when he opened his eyes, he was still lying in the bed, rain hitting the window and making a steady drumming on the glass. He didn't recognize the room he was in, only had a few vague memories of walking home from town. This should make him feel unsafe, make him sneak up and see where he was and how he could get out, but neither one of those feelings came. Instead he just lay in bed, on his side because everything else hurt, and didn't feel a thing.

There were noises in the house, people moving and talking to each other, but he had no idea who those people were. He didn't want to move, didn't want to get up and face whoever and whatever the world decided to throw at him today. He was tired to the bone, but unable to fall asleep again.

As last, he got up, and looked around for his clothes. He didn't find anyone of his own, but he did find a pair of sweatpants and an ordinary, black t-shirt on a chair in the corner. The sweatpants were too big, and he had to drag them on him every few steps. Walking hurts in a way he chooses not to think about, chooses to hold plank in his own mind.

When he opened the door, he wasn't sure what he expects to see, what was supposed to greet him. What did greet him however was two men, sitting back in the chairs around the kitchen table. One of them was sitting with his back toward him, so he couldn't see his face, only the brown short hair, and the standard black dress. The eyes that settle on him, belonging to the mouth that stopped talking as soon as they saw him, were sparkling blue.

"Hey, Steffen." The man that was seated with his back towards him, turn around as well when the other person spoke, giving Steffen the opportunity to categories him as somewhat older than the other one. The one with the hat.

"H-h-hey," Steffen stammered. He would have tried to walk over to them and have a seat, but he suddenly wasn't sure if his legs would carry him all the way. That plus his rising nauseas and the room spinning, had him closing his eyes for a moment, trying to catch his breath. There were some noises, and when Steffen opened his eyes again, both the men was standing and looking at him. The older one was looking nervous and worried, while the younger one, the one with the hat, was a total blank, but his eyes resting heavy on Steffen nonetheless.

"Where a-am I?"

They looked at each other, before the youngest stepped towards him, and held out his hands, showing slowly and clearly what he was trying to do, before he did it. The moment the hands landed on his arm, the hole inside him that had been empty, suddenly filled with sensations, smells and sounds from another life, he was sure of it. In a heartbreaking moment it was as if something tried to pull him in two different directions, one that was taking place here and now, and the other, like a dream, or nightmare from within him, pulling him with it, and locking him down.

When he came to again, he had sagged against the door, all the way to the floor, and the younger man, with the hat, was crunching down in front of him, just out of reach. He realized that the older one was talking, but he couldn't manage to focus enough to make sense of anything at the moment. First when the younger one took a trying step closer was he able to zoom in, and flinch back.

"Hey, it's okay. I'm not gonna touch you, Steffen. My name is Neal, and this is Peter. We're all in Phil Coulson's house, one of your teachers, do you remember him?"

Steffen managed a nod without throwing up, but just barely. He remembered everything up until Saturday. "W-w-what h-happened?" Because even if he had gotten drunk, which he had no reason to, and no habit of doing, it still wouldn't explain why he was here, and not at his own place, surrounded by empty, white walls, and a silence that spoke way to loud.

Neal finally sat down on the floor, still a good way out of reach, and took of his hat and placed it in his lap. He looked about as comfortable as Steffen felt, which wasn't much. Peter was still standing over them, but after a few glances from Neal, that Steffen wasn't sure he was supposed to see, Peter also sat down on the floor, seeming just as uncomfortable as the rest of them.

"What do you remember, Steffen?" It was still Neal who was talking, with a voice that was soft and reassuring somehow.

Trying to get his thoughts in order, Steffen swallowed, and closed his eyes. He really didn't remember much after Saturday midday, when he had been on a visit, and then started walking home. The problem was that his mind seemed to come up with images on its own, but the images that came up couldn't be his. They didn't make sense, didn't feel right with him. Those things had never happened to him.

He opened his eyes to a water bottle being rolled to him.

**** Shift in Story ****

"This weekend, one of our students was attacked and assaulted on his way in to town. One of your co-students was beaten and then thrown in a ditch; alone, cold and drugged. Now, I don't want you to be afraid, the police are looking into the situation, but I do want you to become aware. I want you be cautious and careful. With each other and with your family. I want you to talk to each other, and come talk to one the teachers if you feel like it, we will do our best to help. If anyone knows anything, about anything, I want you to contact either me or another teacher. There will be both a priest and a therapist in place the next two weeks if anyone needs that. The rest of today will go as planned, except from Mr. Coulson's class, who will be moving onto Mr. Sitwell's class. We will hand out advice about party drugs in the halls, and phone numbers to lines that are there for you to use. Now, we'll take lunch and then the rest of the day goes as planned. Be safe."

As many of the students as possible was gathered in the gym hall of the School, listening to Principal Fury talk to them, with the whole staff behind him. The rest of the school was placed in different classrooms which allowed them to listen to what Fury was saying, without being where he was.

Phil had thought it might be easier to just visit one class at the time, but Fury was not a man who was fan of repeating himself. It really didn't matter to Phil either way, he wanted to be here and watch out for the kids, talk to them, but he also wanted, more then he thought he would, to go back home, and see how Steffen was doing. It pained him to know that Peter and Neal might have to be the one to tell the kid what had happened, without him being there. But it was not much to do about it now.

Fury stepped down from the podium, and the gym began to fill with noise, voices talking over each other about the weekend, and probably already guessing who it might have been that had been assaulted. The rumor mill was going to be a blast the next few weeks, until all of it, hopefully, settled down. Phil had caught up on some rumors this morning, before his classes had started, but it was nothing interesting. Only the usual _did you know they broke up?! _and _Well, they did come out of the bedroom together, so…_ There was quite a few rumors about Stark's party, some of which Phil hoped weren't true, some of which he knew weren't true (there was no way Stark had gotten ten different cars as a present from his parents, and there was no way Elvis had performed, just no) so he didn't think there was something he should watch out for.

A sigh nearby drove his thoughts away and he came back to Fury standing beside him, putting a heavy arm on his shoulder. "How are you doing, Phil? Sorry I couldn't be there."

Phil just shook his head. Fury had been on a seminar held by the stat, to ensure that leaders of schools knew how to work, both with the students and with the staff. There was no way he could have skipped it, it had been on the calendar for almost half a year.

"I'm find, Nick. Just not sure I'm the right person to take care of the situation."

"Kids are tougher then you think, Coulson. And I wouldn't trust anyone else with this. Okay? Have you reached his parents yet?"

"No. I'm planning on calling his building manager before I head home today, hoping he has a clue." Just thinking about it, made Phil's stomach turn. No child, at any age, should be without their parents in a time where they stood a chance of losing themselves. And this was definitively a situation where one could lose oneself. It still baffled him that the school hadn't had any record of who to call, it wasn't supposed to happen.

Fury nodded, and then said no more when he turned and headed back to the office. Phil didn't say anything more as he walked through the school, and started driving home. He called up the number he had gotten for Steffens building, while he drove; hopeing that someone would pick up the phone. He had no doubt he had to drive Steffen there sometime during the next three days, for the boy to pick up some clothes and schools stuff if he felt up for it, but it was more urgent to get a hold of Steffen's parents and tell them what was going on.

When someone finally picked up, he stated what he wished, but was surprised when the manager told him in a brisk tone that they had no one by that name in the building and that he must have done a mistake somewhere. Phil tried to tell him that there was no mistake, all the paper they had sent to that address had ended up to Steffen, that he was sure of, but the building manager stood his ground, telling him over and over again that there was no attendant by that name in the building, and that he could not help him. Phil ended up starring at his phone in front of his house when the line suddenly went dead.

The building manager was the only lead he had to get a hold of Steffen's parents. He had tried looking them up on the internet, but since he had no idea where Steffen was from, or what his parents name was, he didn't get that far.

When he closed the door behind him, Peter came out to greet him home, and told him what had happened earlier, and that Steffen was asleep again. They hadn't gotten anything out of him, but he seemed to be remembering more and more when he was awake.

"Oh, hey, Phil," Neal said as he came out to hear what they were talking about. "I was wondering if I and Peter might eat dinner with you? I think it will do both of you good to have someone else here to break the tension." Then he was gone again, not waiting for an answer. Phil didn't bother to say anything against it, as he was sure both of them really could use some company and change in environment. And after Peter mumbled something about Neal having dealt with situations close to this sort before, he just nodded, and they started making an early dinner.


	8. If Only

**Chapter 8 – If Only**

It seemed like the week may never end. By the time the bell rang on Friday, Will Scarlett was way too ready to just be done with the week, and maybe stay in his room all weekend, not talking to anyone, not thinking about anything and forget that the last week had happened at all.

Marian, like the golden child she was, had kept a watchful eye on him the whole week, but luckily not tried to approach him about what had happened last weekend again. It didn't seem like the had told Robin something either, but he couldn't be sure if she had or not, seen as Robin had worked as much as he always did, coming home late almost each night, and the one night he had come home early, Will had been out, waking the streets, thinking and trying not at the same time.

Nate and Max had seemed to notice something was off, but they had both been too busy with Max's acquaintances being in town to look at some business plans Will hadn't even tried to understand anything about. And Allan had been his own goofy self, trying, and succeeding in asking Much out, to notice anything else than what was said directly to him.

And just to put him even more on edge; one of Ethan's friends, Brandt had kept an unpleasantly close eye with him, as if he was trying to see if Hunt's accusations were true maybe. Will had tried to tell himself that he didn't care what some brat of a boy thought about him, thinking of Hunt, but in the end, it still had gotten to him, and he had done something he had promised both himself and Nate he never would do again. He had contacted someone from the time when he lived with his mother; a boy named Kurt, only a few years older than him really, and asked about some stash.

Will was no newbie to drugs; it had been part of his childhood as much as bread or soda really. He was pretty sure Robin knew that was the case, since during the first year he lived with him, Robin had been pretty obvious about his tendencies to search through his room on a regular basis. Will hadn't complained though, just the fact that he had been given his own room was new at that time, but he had never really been into that kind of stuff, had never liked the way it made his mother act out, or disappear onto herself.

That being said, he was not against some joints now and then, for fun, or like this time, just to escape a few hours. The fact that a test had been returned to them on Friday and the result was not a good one, he could honestly say he was just looking forward to find himself somewhere empty, maybe and old fabric down by the river, or some place in the woods all for himself, where he could let go.

"Are you okay, Will?"

"Hu?" The halls were full of students as eager as him for a weekend, but Nate had somehow managed to get through the mass and put a hand on his shoulder. A quick glans around proved that he was alone, no Max or Allan in sight, which made him thankful someway. Don't get him wrong, they were among his best friends, and even thought at least Max had been through, and still went through, more crap that Will ever could dream of, Nate was by far the one who was the caretaker of them.

"Yeah, yeah, I was just thinking about what I should do this weekend, seeing as you and Max are having fun without me, again, and Allan probably will advance to sleeping outside Much's doorstep, if the doorman lets him." He tried on a smile. It felt like it might be a little thin in the corners. There was a second he was afraid Nate might call him on it, but just as Will opened his mouth to say something distracting, Brandt of all people, came by, gave him a quick nod and wished him a good weekend. Will was too shocked to formulate an answer, but Nate had always been quick on his feet, and smiled back and wished Brandt the same. Then he was gone, and Will used that moment, to shake of Nate's hand on him shoulder, and start picking some random books to put in his backpack. They wouldn't be touched during the weekend, Will never read through the weekend, avoided reading in general if he could really, but Robin always asked if his backpack was empty.

"Well, Max's friends are leaving tomorrow sometime, hopefully, so you could join us afterward if you want? I think we were talking about renting a movie." Will had started walking away, but the hall wasn't stuffed anymore, so Nate had no problem following him.

"Yeah, I'll talk with Robin about it," he said dismissive, hating himself for doing this to Nate, a friend and someone who actually gave a fuck, but unable to do anything to stop himself. He had these days sometimes, out of control to care for much, and just hoping that he'd disappear somehow.

"Ok." Nate answered as if he hadn't caught the tone Will spoke in, and Will was grateful for it. If it had been Allan, he would have teased him about it, started pushing and whining about what was wrong, but not Nate. "Is that Robin?"

Will glanced up, and caught sight of what Nate was looking at. And true to Nate's word, Robin had parked his car by the road, and was sitting by the wheel, looking at the building, clearly waiting for someone. This was not something that happened often. Marian had athletics after school almost every day, and Robin was usually at work at this time of the day. To have him waiting outside the school, was not something Will thought of as a good sign. Sure, he had that note in his backpack, telling Robin that he had failed another test, but that wasn't a reason to call him in, it never had been before anyway.

"Talk to you later," was all Will could make himself say as he headed away from Nate and toward the waiting car. He opened the door and got in to the front seat, before closing the door.

"Hey."

"Hey. Something wrong?"

Robin looked over at him, before answering, "Why would there be something wrong?" He started the engine without looking at Will which was as good sign as any that something was not right. Trying to search through the last days, seeing if might have done something that could be looked at as not nice, Will came up empty, and decided that he was too tired and done to care at the moment. Instead he leaned his head against the window, and waited for Robin to say what was on his mind.

When nothing happened, Will figured he might as well say something. "I failed another test."

Robin sighs, and was silence the rest of the ride. It seemed whatever was on his mind, he didn't plan to tell Will about it, and Will more or less bolts out of the car when it stops, walking fast, but not sprinting toward the house, and up the stairs to his own room. He came down when Marian came home, and Robin calls him down for dinner, before going back to his room, where he spends way too much time staring at his school books before getting to frustrated to stand in his room anymore.

If Robin or Marian noticed that he snuck out of his room through the window, and didn't come back before well past eleven, no one of them comments on it.

It had been over a week, and Clint kind of hoped that Barney had forgotten about him and just moved on, and left him alone. It had been a crappy week, with a few test he knew he hadn't done very well at, and in the back of his mind, was the pictures of the weekend before. Richard had sat them down and talked with them again on Tuesday. He couldn't tell them anything specific, but he had assured them that the assault was reported to the police, and that things were been taking seriously.

Brandt had buried himself in school, and almost stopped talking when they were at home. A lot of his time was also spent with Ethan, or with trying to seek out Scarlett, to see if he was okay. Clint tried not to worry, since this was just the way Brandt functioned, he didn't think there was anything more behind it, and if it was, he was sure Ann and Richard would handle that.

None of the other had said anything more about it, and so, Clint hadn't either, even though he noticed Natasha glancing as him from time to time.

And he was okay, really. It wasn't like he never had been in that type of situation before ( the circus was really not that safe a place, not that it ever had happened to him), but the last thing he needed was for his brother to once in his life actually keep his promise and really try to get to know Clint.

The only problem was that Clint had never been of the lucky kind, and so when he walked out of school on Friday, late because of another detention, Barney was waiting for him by the school gate.

"Hey Clint. You busy tonight?"

For once, Clint wished that James was there, and could tell Barney to fuck off and leave him alone, but he wasn't, and Clint was, even after almost five years, too damn loyal to turn and walk the other way.

"What do you want, Barney?"

"You don't have to look so happy to see me. I just thought we could hand out for a couple of hours, talk and walk." Barney acted as if they hadn't been apart at all. As if Barney hadn't dragged Clint with him to look out, while he and Trickshot was robbing houses, and Barney had ended up leaving Clint without a second glance. It was as if all those nights where Clint had wished for him to come back and take him with him didn't matter at all. As if all those hours with a fucking therapist who had made him to realize that Barney was no good, but Clint was no good either because he was still so freaking loyal, didn't matter. As if he hadn't tried to run away from the Watsons when he first got there so that he could be with Barney. It was as if it didn't matter. Because Barney was there now.

"Com' on little bro. I just want to talk. No fuss or shit."

The skepticism Clint felt doesn't ease, but since his other plan's for tonight would be something along the line of bugging Tony and Bruce while they do research, or take a jog with Natasha, which it something he tries to do only about a couple of times a year, since she out run him every time, he send a text to Ann, who was the one coming home for dinner tonight, and let her know that he would be home before dark.

"Ok, you've got two hours," it was a lie, but Barney didn't need to know that, "so do what you feel you have to then leave me alone."

Barney did something between smiling and smirking, and nodded his head toward an old car parked a few meters away. Clint only stopped and checked that there wasn't anyone else in there, before getting on, and waiting for Barney to get in.

They drove through the town, and parked by a diner, where they got out and ordered food. Clint got Barney to show him the money before they ordered, since he didn't have enough on him to pay for them both, and Barney sighed and mocked him for it. It didn't matter though, cause no matter how loyal Clint was, it didn't mean he had to trust his brother.

Barney talked about the good old days, as he called them, about the Swordsman and Trickshot and the two couple of twins that had been on the show for a while (Clint was pretty sure Barney would say that it was one of them that finally made him a man, even though he had only just been fourteen at the time). He talked about where he had been since then, about all the towns he had passed through, probably robbing them while he was at it, and looking for a place to settle down. Buck was mentioned pretty early in the one way conversation, and in the end, Barney told Clint that he still was working with Buck, but this time, it was bulletproof. They apparently had a big deal coming up in a few days a couple of towns over, and it was the one thing that was going to make them as rich as they had always wanted to be.

Clint didn't say anything. Didn't tell him about his first two foster homes, which hadn't been able to deal with him at that time, didn't tell him about his other brother now, about his friends, about the fact that he was friends with Tony Stark, and could walk into their house without having to sneak in. He didn't say a word about Ann and Richard, and what kind of amazing persons they were, and how he wanted to like them when he grew up. Didn't mention that there had been persons watching him on the tournament, and that he had been offered a place in a competition where contestants from all over the world were to participate. And Barney never asked.

When they were done, they paid for the food, and left, Barney still talking, and he didn't stop before they came to the car again.

"I really miss you, little bro." Barney didn't look at him as he said it, and just that fact clued Clint in on that something was up. "And Buck does too. We really would like you to join us."

Of course. Clint snorted, and turned around, standing with his back to the car door, looking down the street and the shops. It all came down to this. They wanted his help. Maybe the even needed it, but either way, Barney had once again proved to him that it didn't really matter.

"Come on, Clint. You can't say you don't miss it!" Barney said, louder, and slightly angry, as if realizing that his afternoon had been wasted. "We were a good team, and things are different now."

"Thanks, but no thanks." If Clint hadn't been so tired, he would have started yelling. Yelling about all the things that had popped up during their meal, and told Barney once and for all what he meant, but he couldn't gather the energy. Instead, he just shook his head, and started walking away.

"Clint! Hey, don't walk away man! Don't walk away from me!"

Clint didn't turn around, just kept walking, while he heard Barney get in the car, and started driving. When he came side by side with Clint, he scrolled down the window, and Clint could see that the smiles that had been playing over his face, was gone. Instead, there was a hard face looking back at him that hissed "You're going to regret this."

The next thing he knew, it was a crack to his left, glass exploding and falling down over him. Clint took in the broken window to the shop, the cashier standing behind the counter, before stepping towards him, not looking pleased, and heard the sound of Barney driving down the street in full speed. The rock he had thrown through the glass was lying in the middle of the floor.


	9. Hammer and Strings (A lullaby)

**Chapter 9 – Hammer and Strings (A lullaby)**

This chapter is both about an ending and a beginning in the same night.

**Notes:**

Ok, so the plot is standing still at the moment, and I honestly don't know when next chapter will be up. I've had a crapy week on so many levels and havent't been able to write. A lot is happening in my family at the time, and I want to give you my apology now, rather than later.

Hope you enjoy.

Steffen couldn't sleep. It was dark outside, a chilly wind blowing into the room, autumn was well on its way, and even though the chance for snow was low, it might just happen, if the temperature kept dropping. All the leaves had fallen off the trees now; Steffen could see it through the open window, sitting in a chair that Phil had helped him move to the room he used. It was a little past midnight, and Steffen couldn't sleep.

It still hurt. He had had to go to the hospital again, removing the few stiches they had had to use. His ribs was still sore, making it hard to lie on his front, but his back and bottom making it even harder to lie on his back. He had tried for the first few nights, sleeping on his side, but even that agitated his ribs after a while, and since he already had had a problem with sleeping he had given up after about four nights. It had helped, having Phil's friend, Neal over, in a way Steffen couldn't quite understand himself. No, that was a lie, he understood why Neal helped, his soft features, he was the right height, and he hadn't acted stiff around him at all. Just tried to be friendly and helpful, letting Steffen be when he didn't want to talk, and listen, without being impatient when Steffen needed to talk. He had fallen asleep one day, in the sofa, sitting beside Neal, and woke up with Neal's arms around him, his head resting on a slow breathing chest. He hadn't panicked; all the warmth and softness something that never was a part of his flashed back to what had happened. Instead he had sighed, and when he woke up enough to understand what he was doing, a pang of longing and loss had almost strangled him, before he got control over himself. Peter and Phil had been sitting by the kitchen table, talking in low vices to each other, but had both come over to him, and Neal had let go of him, just sitting back, and letting Steffen rest against him, but also giving him the opportunity to pull away if he wanted. They had tried to ask him what was wrong, but hadn't been able to tell them, only assure them it had nothing to do with either of them, or what had happened. That had been the best sleep he had gotten this week.

Phil had tried to get him to talk, but Steffen didn't like it. He had started stammering, and he had no idea why or how it even had happened, seeing as he never had done it before. Peter had suggested that it might be part of stress and angst, and Steffen had wanted to shout that he didn't care, as long as it stopped. He felt useless and slow, his mouth never managing to carry on the thoughts that were running smoothly through his head. Peter often finished the sentence before Steffen managed, perhaps as a helping gesture, but it never felt like help. It felt like he was slow, and dumb, incapable of getting his body and mouth to obey him, and it made him want to scream again. He wanted that a lot lately, frustration and partly anger and fear getting the better of him, but he had only done it once, and that was in the shower, without anyone listening.

Phil walked around him at daytime, clearly unsure what to do, and Steffen didn't say anything about it. In a screwed up way, Steffen was trying to make him feel at ease. They didn't need to know what he remembered. They didn't need to know that this wasn't the first time something like this had ever happened to him, they didn't need to know any of it, and in a way he wished he could go back to the apartment, his apartment, and lie in his own bed (not that it would make any difference) and try, again, to forget the last week all in all.

The problem was that Phil had every right to keep him there, since he was not allowed to live unsupervised, not for another two years, and he was pretty sure they hadn't managed to get a hold of his parents. Actually, he knew they hadn't gotten a hold of his parents. The only place he kept their number was on his phone, which he didn't have. It was strange, he remembered the beginning of the night almost as clear as day, but the end of the night, and parts of the weekend that had followed was just a black place in his memory. The case had been reported to the police, that Phil had told him, since all cases of children below eighteen that came in with that much injury was automatic reported to some sort of authority, and he knew he had been at the hospital that night, but he didn't remember anything of it himself. His first, clear memory was from Monday morning, waking up to Peter and Neal. The doctor had told him that is wasn't uncommon in cases like his. The drugs they had used on him could lead to some sort of hang over, and they assumed that his memory would come back, even though it wasn't anything he could do to help it. Not that he really needed to know the rest, since Phil already had told him who found him, and who brought him to the hospital in the first place (Steffen had to remember to thank Kew and The Avengers if he ever saw them in the halls again), and the rest didn't really matter. He really wished he had his phone though. Just so that he could call home and hear their voices, don't talk to them, just call and then stay silent, listen to whoever picked up.

He did recall the number, but didn't want Phil to know, or else he would just get them to send him home, or worse; they come over to him. And it wasn't worth it, it wouldn't change anything. Not really. Steffen would still be sitting in this country, waiting for something everybody thought was a lost cause, and they would argue with him, tell him they understood ( the problem was that they really did understand) and beg him to come home. And Steffen couldn't do that. Not yet, not now. It had only been a little over two years since he moved here, and only about five mouths, give or take a few days, since the accident.

He would ask Phil to take him the hospital tomorrow, after assuring him it was nothing wrong with him. He just needed to see his face, take his hand and let go for a few minutes. Maybe he could visit Kim while he was at it, seeing as she had been admitted before the weekend and wouldn't be out before school started on Monday. He wouldn't lose anything on asking, and even if Phil said no, Steffen still needed to stop by his apartment and get some fresh clothes. Just now he was in one of Phil's old army t-shirts and his boxers, but by the end of next week, it would be too cold for just his boxers. Secretly he hoped that by the end of next week he would be home in his apartment, empty and cold as it might be, starring out on the familiar view that came from the 8th floor, instead of looking out on Phil Coulson's front yard.

** Shift in Story **

It had been a busy night. That, of course, wasn't unusual, since it was a Friday, but still, Robin was glad when he got to sit down around 1 o'clock in the night, drinking only his second cup for the night.

The night shift was usually calm and uninteresting, but as all other crime, it would increase in the weekend, leaving Robin and John, who was his partner tonight, exhausted and tired whey Monday came. Robin didn't mind it though. It was the only way he actually got to spend some time with Marian and Will on the weekends. He got to see Marians game on Sunday, and he got to hang out with, and maybe play x-box with, Will in the Saturdays. That was of course after he had slept a few hours.

They had brought in a kid earlier in the evening, before Robin arrived, but he hadn't left until after Robin's shift started. The shop owned who had called them, and followed them down to the precinct to make a statement, had been somewhere between furious and angry, having yelled at the kid for almost half an hour before he even bothered to call the cops. The kid, who couldn't be older than Will and Marian, had been genuinely upset himself, claiming that he wasn't the one who threw the rock, but refusing to say who it was. Robin had been the one to look up the kid and see if he had any history, and when he brought the information he had gained, a couple of break and entry, and some pickpocketing, the kid had willingly said he was willing to make a deal, not wanting anything more to go on the record, at least not now that he was past 16. The shop owner had been hard to convince, but had at last agreed, signing an agreement with the kid, who then had called his parents to pick him up.

It had all worked out for the best, and after that, the only things that had come up was a fake alarm in a house, people needed to secure their dog better, and a crash that had left no one unable to walk, and only two mildly shocked teenagers, having to call for someone to get them. The night was for once quiet around him, even though he was past the time when he hoped it would stay that way, and instead tried to get some paperwork done before the next call came.

Djaq, the only female among them was working tonight as well, but she had been given the blessing job of driving around the city, keeping an eye out, it was better to catch the thief in the act than have to chase him down afterwards, and John had taken a seat by his own desk, forgetting the paperwork in favor of watching the old television.

Robin was just about to get up and get another cup of coffee when John's phone went off. Not his work phone, resting in his desk under some packages of doughnuts, but his private cell phone, which he had to dig out of his pocket. It wasn't unusual about that, both John and Robin had kids at home, and had to be available even if they were at work. What was unusual though, was that when John answered, he said "Djaq?"

She shouldn't be calling him on his private line, not at work. That meant that something had happened, something that wouldn't be pleasant for anyone, but when John listen to what she said, and then glanced over at him, Robin got a feeling this was going to be a long night.

His mind, of course, started right away to provide him with pictures of what it could be. Their house could be on fire, that would be something they would be called about, but that would also go through the radio they all wore, and Robin hadn't heard it make a sound all night. There could have been an accident, but that was eliminated of the same reason. No, since it was Djaq, she probably had seen something that had made her take action. There could have been a robbery, but both Marian and Will was supposed to be in bed, it was past one AM. He told himself to calm down, and wait for John to finish the conversation, before making up his mind, trying to keep control over the situation.

John finally put the phone down, and had also stopped trying to be discrete about looking at Robin, more or less starting at him; both shock and pain clear in his face. John wasn't a really discrete person to begin with, so it really didn't suite him. Finally he stood up and walked over to refill his cup, even though John barely had taken a sip of it. He was doing it to buy time, trying to figure out what to tell Robin, it was a technic Robin had used many times himself.

"What did Djaq have to say?" Robin asked, trying, and failing to be casual about it all, as if he didn't know that is somehow involved him, and as if John didn't know that Robin knew. But they both knew better, knew each other better than to try and be rude. John and Robin respected each other, even if they were very different and had very different approaches to cases; they worked well together, filling out the spaces the other left. That had known each other since school, lived together for a few years back before they had met the love of their live, settled down and got kids. And John respected Robin, both as a boss and partner in solving crime that he didn't drag it out, trying to stall and not tell Robin what he asked.

Instead, he took his cup in his hands, occupying them, and walked over to Robins desk, sat down beside him, and looked him in the eye.

"Djaq just busted a drug deal in midtown. The dealer got away, but the buyer wasn't as quick, and she arrested him and is bringing him in this instant. It was Will, Robin. Will was the buyer."


	10. Keep Holding On

**Chapter 10 – Keep Holding On**

Steve usually liked to rise early, get a good run in the morning, before coming home again, and making breakfast to him, his mother and his grandmother. Especially Sundays were days he would take care to make a real breakfast, with eggs and bacon and an omelet if he found the ingredients for it. That wasn't the case today.

When Steve finally woke up, it was already past 9 AM and he could hear his mother down in the kitchen, singing to herself an old tune Steve couldn't name. He guessed she thought he looked like he could use the extra sleep, 'cause his mother usually woke him up, if he wasn't up by the time she started her day.

Today, Steve couldn't disagree that the extra sleep had been good. It had been late last night, almost midnight when he had gotten a phone call from William Brandt, asking if he could give them a ride to the police station. Steve hadn't even asked what had happened, or who it was they were picking up. It could have been Ethan for all he knew (the rumor said that he had a temper, and Steve still hadn't forgotten what happened just a week ago) but he didn't really care. The Watsons lived just a few blocks from him, and he had known Richard, Ann and John for as long as he could remember, and he had become fast friend with all the boys they took in as well, even though he couldn't say he was that close to James and John.

When Steve left the house, both his mother and grandmother was fast asleep, and he didn't bother to wake them, just to tell them he had to a friend a favor. When he arrived at their house, Richard and Will was waiting outside. None of them said a word as they claimed into the car, and so Steve didn't say anything about is, trying not to let his thought get away from him. Both he and Will waited in the car while Richard walked into the station.

"What's going on?" Steve asked after about ten minutes, not really hoping to get an answer, and at least not an answer to what he really was wondering. That was why Will's reply shocked him, in more than one way.

"Clint got arrested for vandalism. They say he threw a stone through a window at a shop downtown. Last I heard was that Clint was hoping to get to an agreement with the owner."

But since Richard hadn't come out yet, Steve guessed it wasn't working out that way. At least not yet. Steve knew that they had talked more, and that Clint and Richard came out at last, and that he drove them home without as much as a word, but he couldn't remember any of it.

They all knew that Clint had done bad thing before, as Tony would put it; that was no secret. They used to laugh about Clint going rough on them, leaving them for another gang of friends, but none of them really believed that would happen. As much as the others might not see it, it was clear to Steve that Clint was terrified just by the thought of getting kicked out by Richard or Ann. And unlike Tony and Bruce, who tended to hide in a lab somewhere whey they were scared or angry, and himself, Thor and Natasha, who liked to work it out physically, Clint had a tendency to shut himself up and don't talk to them about anything.

Steve had tried for several years to get Clint to talk to him, build up trust between them, but it was still true that Natasha was the closest to Clint, and it didn't look like it might change in the near future.

From Steve was pretty young, his mother had used to joke about that Steve had a thing for bad boys. Not those how were really bad, but those who seemed troubled and too much work for anyone else. And as he grew up, Steve had come to realize that she was partly right. He wanted to help. Had a burning wish that all people could live happy and without fear (Tony referred to this as his childish dream that would never come true, which he knew intellectually, and it was also the main reason Tony had called him Captain America through most of the last five years).

And so, when Steve had eaten the breakfast his mother had made, and helped his grandmother down the stairs and made her ready for church, Steve quietly asked his mother if he may take a walk. The weather was nice, and him mother didn't force him to come with them to church anymore, seeing him as capable of deciding for himself what to do. He still went sometimes, finding it relaxing in a way not much else ever felt. And so he was out the door, walking the short distance to Clint's house.

It was a good day, sunny and fresh, but still with a hint of the winter that was on its way. Many of his neighbors used the day in the garden, fussing with something or another, as was Ann apparently. She and Will was busy raking leafs off the ground, both in thick, sweaters, and their noses red from the cold. James and John was in the garden as wall, washing the bicycles and the car that was home.

None of them noticed Steve at first, as he was standing off to the side, not really trying to get their attention, but rather just watching them and smiling to himself. He and his mother had done the same thing just a few days ago, and even though it might be hard work, it was something that was to done as a family. Steve figured Richard was probably at work, and Clint was … well he assumed he was inside, but he wasn't completely sure.

"Hello."

Ann looked up first, being the closest to him, and smiled at him. "Hello, Steve. How are you doing?"

"I'm fine, that you. Um… I was wondering if I might be able to talk to Clint?" he didn't knew what he would say to him, but he knew that he needed to talk to him, see him, show him that he didn't judge. Steve wanted to know what happened, sure, but he respected and trusted Clint more that to believe anything he might hear, other than from his own mouth. He needed to … needed to be there for him, help him any way he could.

Ann's face fell, and he knew before she answered that her answer would be negative. "I'm sorry, Steve, but Clint is grounded and isn't allowed visitors for some days." She did seem sorry, and somehow it lifted something off of Steve's shoulders that she didn't like to punish her kids. 'Cause that was what Clint was. Her son, and she acted like it. It proved once again that Clint couldn't have asked for a better foster home, and while Steve thanked her, and asked her to give Clint his hello, it lifted yet another weight that Clint knew it as well.

****** **Shift in Story****

Being caught had not been part of the plan, obviously. He knew better that to think it was anything more that dumb, bad luck. He had thought, back when he was sitting in the back of Djaq's car, that it all had seemed too clean. Kurt had been too nice, had run too fast, too soon for Will to shake off the feeling that it didn't seem like a coincident. Paranoia had saved him many times before he moved in with Robin, but he liked to think that things had changed. And somehow, they had too. Now people were yelling at him when he had done something wrong, instead of just saying it was what he did best (his mother had never said that, but many of her "boyfriends" had said it enough for him to get the idea), and there had been actions taken to assure he didn't do it again, other than beating him, or kicking him out. It had been a few hours, sitting in an cell in the police station that Will thought that was what Robin was gonna do. Just throw him out, get rid of the problem while he was ahead, it was bound to happen sometime anyway. But, no, Robin had been angry, so angry that he hadn't even talked to Will when he took him home, hadn't said a word, just told Will to go to his room, and stay there until Robin came and got him.

He had thought about just climbing out the window, run away before they could get rid of him, but all the times of being told he was a coward caught up to him, and he figured he might actually owe it to Robin and Marian. They had given him more of a home then he could have hoped for, and more of a family he ever had had or wanted really. So had waited, tried to get out of his own body, tried to burn off all the energy he suddenly had. The first thought was that he really had wanted a joint, something to disappear into, but the deal hadn't been sealed, and John had searched him anyway.

He had tried to work off what little he could manage in his room, tried to go to sleep, but ended up throwing his phone at the wall, seeing as Nate wouldn't stop sending him messages, telling him that they would watch a movie, or do something else, if he was up to it. (Most of the messages was already in his phone, since Nate actually had a normal sleeping pattern, but it didn't irritate Will less, even so.) He had ended up with a book, tried to get through a few pages, since he had given up on sleeping, but ended up with throwing it against the wall, both out of anger and frustration (he had never been good at reading).

On Sunday Robin had yelled at him, told him he was grounded for at least a month. That he could just about forget hanging out with his friends or doing anything he liked to do. Will had sat through it all expecting Robin to ask him to pack his bags and get out. It hadn't happened, he should have known, and when Robin was done, and sat down in the other side of the kitchen table, he looked about as tired as Will felt, and also a lot older that he was.

"I'm gonna come with you on Monday and inform principal Fury about the situation."

And that was how he had ended up here, in the principal's office with Fury's intense eye on him. They were just about done, and Will was told to get to class. He had no idea what Robin and Fury would talk about, why Robin had wanted to talk to Fury in the first place, but he figured he either would find out soon enough, or it would be something that wouldn't affect him (not likely at all).

This was the reason he was about half an hour too late to his first class, which happened to be history, which he was failing, just like every other subject he took. The only subject he didn't fail was math, and he wasn't great there either. Ms. Lang followed him with the eyes, from he entered, and even after he gave her the note telling her, he had been with Fury. It wasn't until he was seated that he noticed that the rest of the class was sitting in groups of two or three, and working together.

"Mr. Scarlett, as you may have noticed, I have given the class a group task, to be handed in in two weeks. You may join Mr. Brandt and Mr. Hunt's group." For about half a second, Will debated just running out, and never turning back, but since Robin was in the building, and he had no illusion that Ms. Lang wouldn't call Fury right away, and then more or less chase him back into the class room. So instead, he just slumped over to the desk Brandt and Hunt shared, and sat down, not even bothering looking at them. The subject was history, not his favorite, he only liked math but was only about average there, not terrible as the other subjects. (He was lucky if he passed this year, and if he didn't he didn't look forward to telling Robin, that was for sure).

Both Hunt and Brant was looking at him, as if they expected him to do something, but he did his best to ignore them for time being, instead focusing on the book in front of him ( it wasn't even his) before turning over a few pages without really trying to read anything out of it.

"Ok, so the subject is the American Civil War and each group is asked to give their point of view on what happened, and whether it was a fair war of not, specified down to one special event, or important happening. The word should end in a paper and a presentation for the class." Brandt didn't sound like he wanted to be the one to do all the talking, and Will was a bit surprised that Hunt didn't take charge, that was usually what Hunt did. Be the leader and do what he thought was best, no matter who he might hurt while at it. But no, it seemed both the other boys understood that the tension between them was too high to ignore, and anyway; this wasn't a task that needed something to go horrible wrong or to insult someone, so Hunt wasn't really needed.

Will felt bad about that last thought for about two seconds, long enough for it to register, but not long enough to turn into something more, like remorse.

"I would suggest that we all read through chapter 4 and 5 till tomorrow, and then start working on it after school tomorrow, since both I and Ethan won't have time before the weekend." A break, as if to see if they would object, before Brandt continued, "I was thinking we could meet at the library, since I have a angel in mind, but we would need more info than what is in this text book."

That had Will's thoughts stop and his head rose and looked over at Brandt and Hunt. The timing for this stupid task couldn't have been more wrong. He was grounded, and even if Will suspected he could ask Robin to go out because it was a school task, he didn't want to. The feeling was placed somewhere between 'don't want to beg for anything' and 'want to show I can be good as well', and neither of those thoughts were to comforting, really.

"I'm grounded," he mumbled, hoping none of them hear him, so that he could just ignore the situation for a while longer, before not showing up tomorrow, have them do the whole task, and him failing. Yeah, that sounded like a plan.

Unfortunately, and he had no idea how Brandt had heard him, but he clearly had, and before Hunt could open his big mouth ( which he was about to do, Will could see it in his face) nodded and made new plans, just like it didn't matter.

It did.


	11. Bad Blood

**Chapter 11 - Bad Blood**

It was hot in the shop. Despite the cold winds outside the windows, the shop was still damn hot, but Kew realized that he didn't mind as much. It was a flower shop, it was bound to be hot, and it gave him a opportunity to place his jacket and backpack in the backroom, before joining his two friends in the front. (It was a good day.)

Rocket, whose real name was nothing like it (and Kew had never taken the time to use it in his head, so he had to think for a minute or two before he actually realized that that wasn't his real name), was part owner of the shop and had his sleeves rolled up, as he placed some new flowers in a vase on a table, taking a step back, and moving them again. The practice was repeated about five times before Tia, sitting on the counter eating chocolate, started laughing at him, and told him to put the damn thing down, before she did it for him.

It could have been awkward, with them being a couple, and Kew as a third wheel, but there was no tension at all between them, proven by the way Tia leaned back and laughed ever louder when Kew stated matter-of-factly "And I would be right behind her, helping you pick it up again." They had all known each other for a long time, and it was natural.

It spoke of character when Rocket only shook his head at them, and continued as before, and after sever tries, finally let it stand where it was, and walked over to the counter, and stole both a kiss and some chocolate from Tia.

It was in that exact moment someone walked in the door, and even if all three of them kept on smiling, something about the picture before them, changed the atmosphere.

"Hello, may I help you?" Kew asked, as he tangled himself out of Tia's arms, and welcomed the costumers into the shop.

The man looked over the shop, and then down at the address on a note in his hand, before taking a step forward and asking, silently but steady, "Is there a Joss Whale here?"

Rocket looked confused for a moment, but then his face lightened up and he held out his hand. "Ah, you must be the new co-worker. Joss isn't here for the moment, he had to take an emergency vacation, I think it had to do with his parents down south, but he told me to expect someone. My name is Rocket, and I'm part owner. It's nice to meet you …"

"Richard Watson," the man answered the unspoken question without insecurity, and shook Rockets hand before turning toward the boy. "This is Clint, he is the one who will be working here for a while."

"You were there that night!" Kew said, unable to hide his own surprise. He knew he had seen him before, but the last year had been all about new things for him, and had left him with the tendency to forget things when things got hectic. Not to mention that it had been dark, and Kew had been on the brink of a panic attack at the time.

The boy, Clint, just looked up at them, and the down again, seeming as if he would have liked to be anywhere but where he was at the moment. Richard seemed to understand that, and therefore turned to Rocket again, "When can I pick him up? I think the deal was 5 hours a day, but I'm not going to allow this to take time from school."

Rocket shook his head before he was done speaking. "Of course not! Joss can be strict when he get worked up, and if I understood the situation you almost scared him half to death, but since I'm part owner and will be the one to work with Clint, I can assure you that you can pick him up around 9, if that is okay? I won't mind if he bring school work with him either, since we are kind of off season at the moment, and I don't expect it to be too much to do."

Richard nodded, and turned to speak to Clint, before turning and saying his goodbyes. When he had left, the air in the shop dropped, and the easy feeling that had been there before disappeared.

Tia was the first to move, stepping forward and introducing herself, before excusing herself, she had a practice to get to, and kissed Rocket, and the Kew ( on the cheek) before she left, winking at Clint, who looked like, well like Rocket was going to spring him.

"Don't mind her, Clint, she was born that way. C'mon, let me show you the rest of the fun."

Kew didn't follow them when they left. Instead he ended up as an unofficial guardian in case someone did come by, but it wasn't long before both Rocket and Clint was back.

Clint still looked unsure and almost angry, but some of that closed off attitude he had held when he walked in was gone, and when they entered the shop again, Kew heard him ask Rocket, "So, how come you are part owner? You can't be more than, what, 20?"

Kew smiled when he heard Rockets bark of a laughter. "I'm 21, actually, and my dad was the first owner of the original shop, the one with the now broken window. I didn't know I had any right for anything before I was around 10, and by then I already had figured that flowers was something that fascinated me." Rocket shrugged as he entered the shop, and smiled at Clint, who seemed relieved that Rocket hadn't said "the window you broke." Rocket had, because of the deal that was made, access to the police rapport, which meant that Kew also had read them.

They both knew about Clint's story about his brother, and since Kew knew what it was like to never be believed, he had figured that the least he could do. He also knew that Rocket never believed things he hadn't seen or been told by people he trusted ( which was only Tia, Kew and his own dad) so he figured that Clint would soon enough realize that this place, was much more than just a shop. It was home.

Tony Stark was not just someone. He was Tony Fucking Stark. That was what people had told Steve his whole life, and he had gotten tired of correcting them about the same time he started not to care what they thought about Tony.

Tony could be impatient and cruel at times. He didn't understand what Steve tried to tell him most of the time, and other times he didn't care. Lately, he had taking to spending way too much time in his personal lab, or at the lab in the school ( even if Fury had threatened with locking him out, he hadn't done it yet) and if he started talking science, it was doomed to be a hard day. Tony Stark was, in many ways, just who people thought he was.

But he was also someone else entirely. Tony was the one who had spent the most nights with Clint ( when he was new and had problem sleeping, and hadn't known how to trust people just yet), he was the one who had given Thor and Loki tickets to their favorite Broadway show, and never asked for anything in return. Tony let Bruce into his lab, to give him a free space from his own head. Tony hadn't fussed over Steve or given him any trouble when Steve had asked for help regarding dating ( at least not after he had understood how serious Steve was being, and how nervous he was) or the fact that girls was not his main target.

Tony Stark was a person with many trades and sides, but the Tony Stark that was standing in front of Steve now, was not someone he had seen before. Tony Stark didn't do nervous. Never.

Not even the few nights he had asked to spend with Steve, lying next to him in his bed, and thinking too much. About his parents, about his legacy, about what he was suppose to do, about what he wanted to do ( some night he even cried, but they were both men enough to acknowledge that the other knew, and leave it at that).

But the boy before him now, was nervous, and nothing more than a boy. He wasn't the normal confident man Tony usually dressed himself up as in the mornings. He wasn't a mad scientist or a cocky teenager, he was nothing but a boy, nervous and skittish.

"Tony? Is something wrong?"

It wasn't unusual for Tony to pop up in front of Steve's door, he appreciated the family feeling and the homemade food, even if he wouldn't admit to it. But is Steve remembered correctly, Tony had a project to get done within the morning, and it was abnormal for Tony to not spend the night before a deadline in his lab.

"Tony, is that you?" Steve's mother, Sarah, came to the door, and smiled when she saw Tony, before it slipped of her face, and she frowned. "Is something wrong, sweetie?"

That was apparently what Tony needed to get going, and he bolted in the door, as if something out there might try to catch him if he didn't move.

"Did you know that they said there would be snow today. I don't remember where I heard it, but I'm telling you, whoever said that was crazy. And not like old-cat-lady crazy either, but more like no-you-dog-is-not-a-hotdog type of crazy, 'cause seriously, snow, now? I don't think so, thank you very much."

"Ok, well, that is good to know, Tony. Let me put on some coffee just to be sure, though, ok?"

Sarah left them there with a smile, and Steve suddenly appreciated his mum that much more.

"Tony, what's wro- " But Steve didn't get to finish. Tony stormed passed him, seeming like he had snapped out of whatever had made him nervous and shy, and it almost made him glad he didn't have to deal with that Tony anymore. At least now, he knew what to expect and do it things suddenly spun out of control.

The door to Steve's room had just closed when Tony started speaking again, this time walking the floor, and oh how Steve knew this part of Tony from before.

"Ok, so we might have a little problem. You know what, scratch that, we have a big problem and I for once don't really know what to do. I mean, we were just there, right, they can't charge me for anything, since they haven't tried to contact me or anything, I don't even know if they have gone to the police, do you? You probably do, you catch gossip like that faster than me, which isn't comforting, really. But anyway, we need to do something, I know that. We were there, you know how he looked, you saw the way he was totally out of it, and even if all Fury said was assaulted, we both know he was probably raped or molested, right?"

Suddenly it become clear what Tony was talking about. Just as Fury had talked them to, Steve had talked to his mother about what had happened that night, and she had hugged him and made him hot chocolate. Steve wasn't blind to how the world was, but he had to admit he had been naïve and thought something like that never would happen where he lived.

"Anyway, it doesn't matter, not really. We have a bigger problem." Tony finally stopped, and turned to face Steve, fixing him with an intense stare that Steve never had had directed at him before.

"You remember I took two cell phones from the ditch where we found him, right? One of them is his, no doubt. I was able to save all the info on the phone, and I have it on a stick I plan to give to Coulson. The other phone wasn't really damaged beside being wet, so I and Bruce fixed it up, and we thought it was nothing to save, seeing as it was a burned phone, no contacts or anything. But tonight I took another look at it, since I was sick of trying to make my project better, which isn't possible, let me tell you, and I found that it was made one outgoing call from the phone, and as the scientist I am, I dialed it myself, hoping whoever was on the other end would know something."

Tony sighed and sat heavily down on Steve's bed, putting his head in his hands, as if he didn't was to see the world anymore.

"Well, who was it?" Steve asked, feeling himself edging closer to the edge of his patient.

"The one who picked up the phone was Clint, and all he said was "I don't was anything more to do with you, Barney"."

The silence hung heavy in the room, while Steve tried to understand what this would mean. They had all thought that the phone must have belong to one of the people who had been responsible for what had happened that night, and … oh, crap.

Thank you guys for still reading! I would love to hear if you hate it or like it a little ;)  
From next week on, school start and I'll try my best to post as promised.


	12. Stained Glass Eyes And Colorful Tears

**Chapter 12 - Stained Glass Eyes And Colorful Tears**

"Ok, so I've got this idea about what we can do for our project."

Will Brandt more or less fell in the door, when Will Scarlett opened the door on the following day. If Will had been the one to decide, they wouldn't have met at all, and instead let Brandt do all the work, since he actually seem interested in what they are supposed to write about.

"Some time after the war, there was a speech named 'The Lost Cause' and even if today's society would say it is only bullshit, and country also said that when it was given, it became really important in the early 1900s for how American's looked at the war and -"

"Calm down, Brandt. Scarlett looks like he might throw us out." To be honest, Will hadn't even noticed Hunt coming in the door, and even if he really wanted to be angry at them ( at the world at large, really) he still was kind of relived that Hunt had stopped Brandt from talking about more stuff Will had no idea what meant.

Hunt looked around, not even trying to conceal what he was doing, and Will turned around and started walking up the stairs to his room. He didn't care what Hunt and Brandt thought about his (not really, Robin's) house. It was about hundred times better than when he lived with his mother, he even had his own room now, and he had the ability to lock the door if he wanted (needed).

Will didn't turn around before he entered his bedroom, and then it was only to close the door behind Hunt and Brandt. None of the other boys were that far behind him, and when they had entered and Will had closed the door, looking over the room one more time to see that he hadn't left anything that shouldn't be out, out.

Brandt walked right to the desk by the window, that he almost never used, and put down all the book he had brought with him, before starting to unload his backpack as well. Hunt didn't seem to have a train to catch, and instead stood by the bed and looked over the room. It was probably smaller than the one he had, and all the furniture was hand-me-down from friends of Robin, but is was still more of a home than anywhere else.

"Okay, so I've printed out the speech, and given the background information, lacking as it was, it should be no problem to see the context, and then build on form there about why it was made, what influence it had both then and especially later."

Will was handed a sheet of paper. Hunt was also given one, and immediately started reading it, while Brandt kept pulling more and more book out of his backpack, and the finally also a laptop. Will looked down at what was in his hand, but didn't dare to do much more. He tried to do what Hunt did, look over it quickly, and then turn his head towards Brandt again.

"What do you think?"

"People really bought this shit?" Hunt asked, sounding more amused than angry. Brandt nodded and pulled up a website on his laptop, to talk on and on about how it had colored the society during the 20th century.

"I know it is not supposed to be a big project, and I'm thinking we could split the work between us, and then meet up again on Sunday, or maybe even on Monday, since Ms. Lang said she would give us some time in her class to finish it."

Brandt kept talking, but Will didn't really follow. He had pretended to look over the speech, but had only caught a word here and there. He had no idea what the freaking speech was a bout, and he was near to just walk out of his own room, when he heard the door downstairs open, and close, followed by heavy steps. Too heavy to be Marian's.

"Will, are you up there?" Robin called from downstairs, and Brandt stopped talking and looked at Will, starring with the way too blue eyes, and a serious expression plastered on his face. Will didn't even look at Hunt, just walked out of the room, and toward the stair until he saw Robin.

Robin was wearing his police uniform ( complete with the frown) and looked over Will, as if to make sure he wasn't high or drunk. "Are you having friends over?"

"No. It's just some people from my class. We're working on a project in history that has to be done by next week."

"You didn't clear this with me," Robin stated, and turned around, going into the kitchen. Will stood as if frozen for a few second before he walked as calmly down the stairs as he could. Inside he was shaking with anger.

"You said I was grounded. Not that I couldn't have people over. You want do punish me some more? IT WAS JUST SOME STUFF! I didn't even get the possibility to use it!"

Robin, who had been about to take the juice out of the fridge, slammed the door shut and put his hand on the kitchen table, in that typical position where you lean on the table and try to intimidate who you are talking to.

"No, William! It wasn't just some stuff. It was drugs!"

"So? Every other kid on the block does it!"

"Yeah? Well, they aren't you! They don't have a cop as a father!"

"WELL, GOOD FOR ME THEN THAT YOU'RE NOT MY FATHER!"

It became silent after that. Will was still shaking with rage and unfairness, and Robin seemed to be shaking too, but Will didn't know why. He didn't care! Caring took too much energy and was a dangerous game to play.

The door to a room upstairs had them both turning, and both Brandt and Hunt came down the stairs, talking to each other. They stopped by the kitchen door.

"We figured it was time for us to leave, I have to the library before it closes, so…" Brandt said, trying his hardest to look normal, but he didn't quite succeed. Will saw the way he looked between them, the way his hands couldn't quite keep still, as if he wanted to reach out and touch Will.

"We left a note in your room, with what the plan is, and what we would like you to do. We'll see you tomorrow." Hunt was always more competent at faking it, and he said their goodbyes and pushed Brandt out the door.

Will didn't turn around, and didn't think. He just walked up the stairs, without looking back.

"Will, wait. We need to talk," Robin tried to say, but Will almost didn't hear it through the white noise in his ears. He wasn't sure he could say something without yelling right now, too afraid and angry (at himself, at the world). _If you can't say something nice, shut up._ He just walked into his room, and closed the door, not slammed it, and locked it from the inside. If Robin was to throw him out, Will would like to be able to pack up his stuff first.

Clint was tired. He had been working for only two days, and already felt tired to the bone. On the plus side though, he never thought he had been done with his homework so early before. Rocket hadn't been kidding when he said they were in a slow season, and so far, all Clint had done was water some plants watch some basic steps in caretaking of flowers.

"I really appreciate you droving me home, Steve."

The deal today had been that Richard was suppose to pick him up, but when Clint had walked out around half past 8, it was Steve who greeted him, and told him Richard had asked him to pick him up. Clint didn't mind. On the contrary, he really enjoyed it. Steve was easy to talk to, but also knew when to shut it, unlike Tony, who didn't really pay attention to other people that much.

"So, you think Tony will get around to ark Pepper out soon?" Steve asked, as they passed the school.

"Nah, I'm more curious if Natasha will pull it together soon."

"Natasha is after Pepper?" Steve asked. Clint gave him point for not thinking Natasha was lusting after Tony, and nodded.

"Yeah. But don't tell her I told you, okay? I like my neck in one piece."

Steve laughed, and Clint got this feelings in his stomach. It was like it was blowing a hot wind straight through him each time Steve laughed, or looked at him too closely. It made him squirm at the same time it made him feel good.

"No problem. I think Bucky might have a good eye for Jane. Not Foster, but the one Ethan tend to hang out with? I've noticed that he take a detour to his locker, just to pass by hers."

"Really? Now that's a couple I never saw coming," Clint laughed and looked over at Steve, who was keeping his eyes on the road, but smiling.

They drove the rest of the way in silence, while listening to the radio. Steve hummed along on some songs, and Clint felt happy, looking out the window, and listening to.

"Here we are," Steve said, as he pulled up by Clint's house. He killed the engine, and turned around to look at Clint properly. It made Clint's heart flutter a little, when Steve leaned forward.

"Have Tony talked to you?"

The mode changed so fast, Clint had to lean his head back against the window again, but this time, still keeping his eyes on Steve. Yes, Tony had talked to him, and when Clint said talked he really meant it. Tony had used all of their shared free hour to walk his through what he had found, and then defending the method, as if he expected Clint not to believe him and accuse him of lying. Clint may be many things, but stupid was usually not one of them.

"Yeah." And suddenly, Clint was exhausted again.

Steve nodded, more to himself than Clint, "That's good. Have you decided what you are going to do about it?" He said it as if it was no question that this was all up to Clint, and while Clint may appreciate it, he also hated it. He wasn't responsible for his stupid brother. It wasn't his fault that his brother was as bad as their father, maybe worse. It shouldn't be Clint's problem what to do about it, but it was.

He understood their thoughts and ways. If they had gone over his head, he would have been both furious and relieved, but the hadn't. because they were good friends. And good friends didn't keep secrets from their friends about theirs friend's brothers.

"Yeah, I think I have, but I really don't want to talk about it." I'm not ready he thought. Didn't know if he was ever going to be ready.

"Yeah, okay. Just remember that you can always talk to me, right? I'm not going anywhere."

Here Clint would have liked to think about the blue color in Steve eyes, and that it was the window to his soul, and who he got all lost in them, but he didn't. He felt it, so strongly he could almost taste it, but he didn't let the thoughts cross his mind. Instead he open the door, and pushed himself to the feet.

"Thanks, Steve. It's good to know. Thanks for the ride."

"Anytime," Steve answered, and Clint tried not to think about whether it was the answer to the first or last sentence. He turned around by the door, and waved, feeling both silly and young, before pushing his way inside.

"Clint, it that you?" Richard called from the kitchen, and when Clint entered, he was meet by a smile and a plate of food. "Figured you might be hungry."

And Clint was. Suddenly and really much hungry.

"Sorry I couldn't pick you up, but Kenneth wanted to go the park, and it has been ages since we did that, do I figured I could ask Steve."

"No problem," Clint answered, his mouth full of bread and meat. Richard smiled at him, before going back to the magazine he was reading. Clint ate the rest of the meal, before looking up again. He should do this now, and just get it over with.

"Um, dad?" Richard, looked up from the magazine at that. Clint never called Richard dad. Will used to, and Kenneth, but Clint and James had never been the type to show that kind of affection, and neither Richard or Ann had any problem with that. And Clint didn't know what made him say it this time, it just felt right. Because they were his caretakers now, they cared from him, and they loved him, sometimes more than others, but still, they never disliked him. And now, Clint was ready to take a step he hadn't thought he was ever going to take, because even if he was loyal, he never tended to ask for help. Not when it mattered, and because asking for help meant a whole new level of trust and loyalty, it felt right to use those terms now, because they were true.

Richard had straightened up now, and put the magazine down on the table, looking at Clint with searching eyes.

"I need your help, dad." Before Clint really knew what was going on, tears was streaming down his face, and Richard had left his own chair, to kneel down by Clint and hug him. Time passed by, but Richard didn't let go. Instead, he held on tighter, starting to rock slowly, stroking his hand through Clint hair, and telling him it was going to be okay. And that was funny, 'cause Richard didn't even know what the problem was yet, but he promised that it would all be okay, anyhow.

Finally, the tears stopped coming, and Clint started to pull away. Richard pull away too, but stayed kneeling on the floor by Clint chair, leaving his hands on his shoulders and looking at him, waiting.

"The boy," Clint tried, but his voice was ruff, as if he had been yelling, and he had to cough a little before trying again. "They boy from two weeks ago, the one on my school, who was assaulted." Richard kept still, but nodded for Clint do go on. "I think I know who it was. Who did it. Or at least one of them."

This got more a reaction, and Richard rose, and sat down on the other side of the table again. That involved taking his hands off of Clint's shoulders, and it made Clint hunch together. He pulled the phone Stark had given him out of his pocket and placed it on the table.

"It was Barney. Stark found this on the scene and traced the one number it had called. It was mine. Barney call me with this phone just hours before it happened." And here was those stupid teas again. Richard sighed, and Clint got the thought that maybe Richard was angry at him. "And I don't know what to do, dad."

The next Clint knew, Richard had him in his arms, stroking his hear, and repeating the same thing over and over again. "It's going to okay, Clint. We are going to be okay. We'll fix this together, son."


	13. All Too Well

**Chapter 13 - All Too Well**

The following day was not big on any accounts, not really. Steffen had tried to tell himself that it didn't matter what people thought of him, it hadn't mattered before, and it didn't matter now. Yesterday had gone by in a blur, and he didn't really remember much beside getting onto the car with Coulson- Phil. Really Steffen, I don't mind - and then gone to bed. Some part of him knew that this was something he should tell Coulson, that it might would become a problem, the whole not remembering thing. But he still didn't feel comfortable with words, kept stuttering and stammering, never speaking the whole sentence before he gave up.

The real problem though, the big one that he felt like was shining in neon lights about his head, was that he didn't know if he could do this. It had been hard before, staying in school, keep living as if everything was perfect, but now… now he didn't see any light anywhere.

He kept having nightmares and flashbacks, kept seeing things he didn't really remember. And even if Neal and Peter, Coulson's friends, not his own, kept being around, smoothing him in a way he couldn't control or explain, it didn't really matter anymore. He had to go back to school. Sam would appreciate it, that Steffen had tried to live, even without him.

Coulson, not Phil, had tried to talk to him. Tried to get him to talk about what he remembered, thought he remembered, and knew for a fact was just his imagination. They also tried to make him talk about his family. Now, there was a place he didn't want to go.

He missed them. God, how he missed his family. His mother, his sister, his big brother, even his father and stepfather. He didn't want to talk about it, really not. He had told himself that family could be different things, and he had chosen his family.

Sam and Kim were his family now, even if things hadn't gone as any of them thought. Unexpected things happened, and even if he wasn't alone, not really, Steffen didn't know if he could survive any longer.

"Steffen? Are you awake?" Coulson knocked on the door, and opened it a little. Steffen didn't even pretend to be asleep. Three hours. That was what was granted him tonight. Three lousy hours of sleep, and they weren't even peaceful hours of sleep.

"We have to leave in about 30 minutes, ok?" Then he was gone again. As if he didn't like to look at him, didn't was to the damage that had been done. All the big bruises were on their was to be healed by now, but he still had random yellow spots up his arms. No, he didn't really look that bad anymore. The reason Steffen didn't like to look in the mirror these days were because of the small things. The little cut above his eye, that had to been made by a knife, and the way his skin looked kind of gray. He luckily hadn't lost that much weight.

The rest of the morning and day proceeded as the day before, with big black holes in his memory. What changed was that when Steffen was done for the day, he suddenly got spooked out of his shell by a present behind him. He managed not to flinch as he turned around, but only just.

Steve Rogers was standing right in front of him, keeping a neutral, but kind expression on his face. Steffen didn't really know Steve or his friends. He knew they were loud, and had connections all over the school, both good and bad, but the few classes he had with Steve, he had noticed that Steve seemed to be the most calming one of them. He hoped that was true.

"Hey, Steffen. Mr. Coulson sent me to tell you that he will have to stay at school a while longer, and he asked me to drive you home, or, if you would like, you could come home with me." Steve shuffled his backpack, as if he was nervous, and smiled at him. It seemed fake and unsure, but Steffen didn't really care that much about reality and security anymore. A voice in his head told him he should make sure that this wasn't a trick, but he was honestly too tired to even care if it was.

"S-s-sure."

They walked out of the school, and toward a car that was parked, but before any of them could climb inside it, a voice broke through to them. "Hey, Rogers! Hold up!"

Steve groaned, but stopped and turned around. Steffen did the same, not knowing what to expect, but certainly not expecting to come face-to-face with Tony Stark.

"Are you dumping us, Rogers? Really, you was the last person I expected this from. I'll let you know that the sex was never that great anyway." Steffen flinched this time, when Tony Stark walked passed him, and stood glaring at Steve.

"What do you want Tony?" Steve sighed, but didn't role his eyes. It seemed like he knew the situation well enough to know that this was the way Tony was.

"Just wondering if I'll see you tonight? Clint and Brandt hosting game night?"

"I'll think about it, but I have to check in with my mother first, but I wouldn't count on anything. I'll text Clint if I can't come, you know I do."

Tony didn't seem to find that answer satisfying, but Steve didn't seem to care, as he climbed into his care, and started the engine, waiting for Steffen to get inside too, before driving off.

"So, where do you want to go?"

The thoughts that came into his mind right then, frightened himself. Steve would take him where he wanted to go. Whether it was somewhere Steve knew about or not, Steffen was free to say where they were to go, and then hope that Steve did as he said he would.

He gave him the address first, being as quick as he could, while Steve waited downstairs be the car. He didn't need that much, only a few jeans, some t-shirts and that one thing he had missed the past two weeks.

When he came out again, Steve smiled at him, and just started the car again, without asking questions or asking who he knew that lived there.

"Could y-you take me-e to the h-h-h-h-." Steffen stopped and swallowed before trying again. "H-hospital?" This was the worst part. He could live with the empty feeling, the broken memories and even the visible marks on his body. But this, the stuttering was what got to him most. All of the other things could he hideaway and only poke at when he was alone and had the time to break down a little. But stuttering wasn't something he could hide. It effected how people looked at him, what they thought about him and Steffen wasn't sure if he could live through that.

"Sure," Steve answered. "You mind if I come with you?"

It was a odd question, but since Steffen already felt bad for taking advantage of Steve this way, he couldn't bring himself to say no. So instead he nodded, and then turned to walk into the big building.

It was ages since he had last been there. Closer to a month that he liked to think about, but time hadn't been on his side, and Kim had spent a few weeks outside this place at the beginning of the school year. She was first on his plan.

He didn't need to ask what room she was placed in. Since she was there so often, the nurses had gone together and promised her the same room every time she came back, both because of the problem with moving that much stuff each time she came and left, but also because there was no hint that she wouldn't be needing to be here in the upcoming future.

"Well, don't you look like hell," was her first words, not really that big of a surprise. She didn't look great herself, pale and thinner than last time he had seen her, and her smile dripped of her face, once he stepped fully into the room, Steve close on his heels. "What has happened? It isn't about Sam, is it?"

One could not not hear the panic in her voice at the last words, and she tried to sit up, but gave up when Steffen shook his head. She breathed out at that, before her eyes turned to Steve.

"You brought Steve Rogers with you? Wow, cool new friends my friend. Any friend of yours is a friend of me, right? Even thought, if you try to bring Tony Stark, I might have to call security."

Steve laughed at that, and walked to present himself. The rest of the visit went by without Steffen having to say much, just a few sentences, and even if he saw Kim raise an eyebrow at his stuttering, she didn't question him about it, which he was very grateful over.

When they walked out, Steve looked troubled, and when they were in the elevator, he asked "What is she treated for?" And just the fact that he didn't ask what was wrong about her, made Steffen relieved.

"Cancer," he stated. He didn't tell that her boyfriend had died of the same about half a year earlier, that her mother traveled all over the world because of her job, stewardess, and that she hadn't know who her father was until two year ago. He lived out of state.

When they got near to the second room, Steffen signaled for Steve to wait outside. It turned out he didn't need to, as he was about to open the door, it opened, and an older man stepped outside. A not so old woman and two younger men followed him out, but the all stopped when they saw Steffen.

"What are you doing here?" the older man, Mr. Stowen, asked, while standing taller. Behind him, both of his sons did the same, while the woman, Mrs. Stowen, who ususally was as cold toward him as the rest of the family was, didn't look that cold today. She almost looked unsure and regretful. Steffen had no idea what had happened to make that happen, and he didn't really care that much either.

"I-I-I'm here t-to see S-S-Sam."

The two sons laughed at that, and Steffen felt his cheek grow warm of embarrassment. It was silly, really. He had long ago given up to get Sam's family to like him. They were to high up to look at him more than twice.

"Didn't I tell you to not come here anymore?" Mr. Stowen asked, while taking a threatening step forward. "Maybe I should call the security over here, and have them remove you."

As he took another step toward Steffen, Steve suddenly stepped between them. His expression was sober, and he looked more than a little angry. "I believe this is a free country, Sir. And as far as I can see, this is a section that open to everyone."

Mr. Stowen was clearly taken aback by this, and Steffen used that opportunity to sneak past him, and into the room.

**Shift in Scene**

It was starting to get cold, was the first thing Kew thought as he walked home. Nate had made a habit out of walking with him if he didn't have any other plans. Today though, Nate had caught up with him, and told him he had to visit a friend, but that Kew was free to join him, if he wanted. Kew had thanked him, but said no.

The problem was, though, that he kind of wanted to. He hadn't really gotten to know Nate that much, since Nate did much of the talking, but seemed to have great experience in talking about everything but himself (something Kew could appreciate on some level). It had been a shock to find out that he wanted to know more about Nate, since he usually found his head too full of himself to have energy left over to someone else. It had started to change though. He still hung out with Rocket and Tia about three days a week, and then also with Clint Barton, but that was something he was used to. Kensi and Deeks had promised to visit him this weekend, since G was going out of town for the weekend, and didn't like Kew being alone, but that was also something different. With Nate thought, it was more like Kew saw himself in a new way around him, and even if he wasn't that eager on some of his friends, Allan A-Dale, he could see the upside with having someone to hang out with in school.

How he was suppose to make it come true on the other end, he had no idea.


End file.
